Between the Stars
by Kryhs
Summary: Ten years since Sarah defeated Jareth, and the world thinks she's certifiable. Spending her days in a drug induced haze in the psych ward, Sarah doesn't know what to believe anymore. But, when she's weaned off her medication and her memories begin surfacing, she's suddenly thrown back into the spiral of magic and danger. Can she survive the wrath of the Goblin King a second time?
1. Dream Land

Disclaimer: In no way am I affiliated with, in ownership of, or sponsored by Jim Henson or The Labyrinth as creative works of art. I am writing this story in understanding that I will not be publishing this for revenue of any sort. Any of the characters, quotes, songs, and poems mentioned within do not belong to me and I will make a valiant effort to cite what is not mine. This disclaimer will stay true for every chapter in this fan written fiction and will remain here at the top of the first chapter for all to see.

Thank you kindly,

Kryhs

Dream Land

She stared up at the never ending pattern of grey of her ceiling. She wasn't sure how long she'd been laying there. Hours, probably. Days, most likely. The listless feeling of being incomplete tugged at the edges of her heart and swallowed any desire she might have had to lift her head from the pillows cradling it ever so perfectly. Nothing was bright. Nothing danced. The world was made of sludge and ash and she waded through it day after day looking for color and magic. But, there wasn't any. It didn't exist.

Magic was what had brought her to the Underground so long ago. Magic was what she wielded with her words. Magic scratched at the backs of her eyelids when she fell asleep and tickled her lashes when she woke. But, it was never anything more than a dream… a wish. She sighed for what felt like the thousandth time that day and rolled her aching shoulders against the slate blue of her sheets and cracked the stiff bones of her neck before she used what felt like every ounce of energy she possessed to pull herself into a sitting position.

She didn't glance out of the window to the courtyard dotted with white hospital gowns and pastel colors of orderly scrubs. She knew what they all looked like. She'd been here so long she didn't need to look up to match any face to the sound of their shuffling or a lingering cough echoing about the cold tiled halls. She slipped her feet into the soft shoes they had given her years ago, her pinky toe poking through a hole worn into the side of her right one. She would have to ask for new ones, eventually. But, she learned her lesson long ago about asking for things. Both in this world and the next.

There was no mirror in her room. In fact, there were no reflective surfaces at all. The doorknob was painted over with cracking pale blue paint. The bed rails coated in black over and over until only a matte, dull color could be discerned. They didn't like to encourage her whimsy here. The few times she had brought herself out of the fog and made any kind of attempt at looking into a mirror she had been sedated immediately. Half the time she wasn't sure if what she had seen were dreams or nightmares. They kept telling her that it wasn't real. It was the result of a psychotic break.

Her mind wasn't able to accept the reality of what happened that stormy night when she was fifteen and petulant and when Toby was -

A soft moan squeezed from her throat and a nurse looked up from the station several feet away.

"Sarah?" said the woman, pristine eyebrows arched nervously. She saw the nurse's hand slide under the desk she stood behind, manicured fingers poised over the hidden call button most likely, "Everything all right?"

"Yes, I'm fine," Sarah said quickly, she turned from the nurse's station and shuffled softly across the common room, looking for a relatively quiet place to stare into nothingness again. But, as she moved through the halls to the visiting room she saw the glint of gold and the swish of wheat-blonde hair and her heart sputtered in her chest. The rolling fog of her memories lifted softly until the man turned and his large nose and green eyes turned to meet her. She felt a scowl tug at her brows and couldn't help the glare she cast him. The man froze for a second, and she noticed the thick, gold chain around his neck heavy with a large medallion in the shape of spinning wheel. She lingered only a moment before she continued on her way.

There was a commotion from the recreation room at the end of the hall. Excited claps and hoots filtered through the open door as more patients crowded the doorway. She shoved her way between the morbidly obese patient who'd tried to eat his own mattress just last week and the old woman who only spoke in words and idioms as muddied as ditchwater. Even now she mumbled to herself as Sarah covered her ears with her palms and shoved into the room. Once she passed the crowd at the door she was surprised to find a man standing in the middle of the room with a clipboard in his hand and a fist on his hip as two men set a large ornate bookshelf against the back wall near the window seats.

And, Sarah's heart warmed. Something she truly cared about. Books.

She wasn't allowed to have her own books. Her pernicious therapist said they inspired the wrong kind of hope in her mind when she read fantasy stories. That Le Morte d'Arthur and The Canterbury Tales were too much of a negative influence on her already maladjusted imagination. She glowered at the memory so long ago. That therapist was gone - thank, God - but a new one had yet to be assigned to her. It had been nearly six months, and she was barely shrugging off the sleepy, dreamy state of the heavy doses of medication they fed her day after day.

Pills of all kinds. Blue and pink and white. Round and long. Fat and skinny. Sarah made a noise of disgust in her throat as she remembered the chalky taste of them. The man turned his bright blue eyes toward her, a smile melting like honey on his features as he saw her.

"Good morning," he invited in a voice as candied as his smile. His accent raised a panic in her. Heart beating erratically as her fantasies burbled to the still surface of her mind. She fought to keep them down and felt her eyes widen as the smile slipped from his face.

"Are you alright, dear?" he asked turning towards her. She nodded fervently, keeping her eyes on his face and willing the ghosts of her past away. She was a good girl. She didn't believe in goblins and faeries and dwarves and beasts. The man came to a stop in front of her, holding his clipboard up for inspections, "You're Sarah, correct?"

"Yes, sir," she whispered, clasping her hands in front of her and trying to control the panic shaking in her limbs.

His answering laugh was euphonious and light, "You don't have to call me 'sir', Sarah." She took a steadying breath and looked up into his sky blue irises, his nose was regal but not straight, his brow was young, and his eyes - most importantly of all - were both the same color. It wasn't him. It would never be him.

_He doesn't exist. _She reminded herself flatly. It was all a nightmare. Not real. Not fair.

It was best that she got that through her head once and for all. Otherwise, they'd put her back on the medication again. She hated the medication. It put her in a hazy state between waking and dreaming. It was then that the nightmares sometimes spoke to her and sometimes didn't. She was never sure when they'd actually show up or if they'd ever leave.

Sometimes when Sarah was down in the courtyard she'd catch a glimpse of a firey's tail or a goblin's helm. It was always just a stray cat or some toy brought in by a parent for their infirmed child. Sarah hated it. Hated seeing all the fanciful things people brought their loved ones. The only thing her Father and Karen did for her was not cry during the silent hour they came to visit every week.

She glowered to herself as the man in front of her cleared his throat. She snapped her attention back onto his clear knowing eyes. He was watching her carefully and she wasn't sure why. This man acted eerily familiar with her. Or, maybe it was the grade school teacher attitude that emanated from him. He was warm and supportive because the rest of them didn't know better.

Great. Another idiot who thought they could be cured with love and sunshine…

"Call me Adam," he smiled comfortingly at her and dropped the clipboard, "I'm the floor director."

The rest of the patients could have been invisible for all Sarah cared for them, but the new director didn't even glance their way. His attention focused solely on her. She flushed for a moment, green eyes darting to her hospital mates in the doorway before she cleared her throat. She looked at the silver badge over his lapel that read "Smith M.D.".

"Director Smith," she said giving him a nod then darting her keen eyes over his shoulder to look at the enormous bookshelf, "What's the bookshelf for?" If she tried sounding disinterested she had failed miserably.

Director Smith smiled at her, catching her slight dismissal of his friendly nature and waved grandly at the bookshelf, "A donation from a very generous patron. One who enjoys adventure and the smell of old paper to soiled hospital gowns and sterile floors."

"So, you brought it?"

His blue eyes cast her a happy glance as he beckoned her to follow him with a wave of his clip board. Several of the door lurkers followed suit and peeked over Sarah's shoulder as the director crouched over a large box in the center of the room and pulled open the cardboard flaps revealing large leather bound novels and thick dusty books with jackets that frayed and yellowed at the edges of the spine. Each of these books was well loved, the heavy use indicating how many times fingers had pulled open their pages and let imaginations run free.

Sarah looked up at the director, his face filled with wonder and excitement like a little mischievous boy as the other patients crowded around him. Maybe a man who loved books this much wasn't so bad.

"Aren't they nice?" he asked them. Some nodded, most stared blankly at the box not sure what he wanted them to get from the donation.

"There will be rules regarding the books," Director Smith said after he called all the patients into the recreation room. Some of the more cognizant patients, Sarah being one of them, looked positively thrilled to have something stimulating to occupy their minds for once. The television was always on some child's cartoon loop and there were only so many paper-mâché elephants one could make before wanting to crush every single one into dust and toss them out the windows.

"Rule number one: No eating, throwing, or destroying the books in any capacity. If you are having a hard time reading any of them ask a volunteer or another patient to help you read. If you are frustrated, do something constructive. Do not take it out on the books.

"Rule number two: Return what you borrow. If you find yourself drawn to a particular book they will be lent out to each patient in a library like system. There will be a sign out sheet that will be checked every few days. If a book has not been returned we will come looking for it.

"And, finally, rule number three: Enjoy them. I know this is my first day in the ward, but believe me when I say I have been working tirelessly to make changes for the better as soon as I stepped into the role several months ago, even if I haven't been here very often I was always making decisions with all of your best interests in mind. Things have been run differently until now. I am here to help. I am a friend. If anything is bothering you - if there is anything that ANY of you need to talk to me about, my door is always open." He smiled at the crowd. Most of the patients understood him, even if they had the mental faculties of a seven year old.

Something was off about him. Had he been in the ward that long? She couldn't remember exactly. Sarah stood in the back of the room with her arms crossed over her chest. Sure he was nice enough, but things were never what they seemed. At least that little lesson still rang true over the course of her madness. At this point in time she wasn't sure whether his nature was benign or malignant. However, years in this ward at least taught her patience. Or maybe that was the drugs. She could never be sure. They put them in their food sometimes. She could taste the acrid bite sometimes, masked in a pudding or meat loaf. The food here was horrible, anyway. She'd rather be a zombie spending her days in a slow tumbling fog than have to weather it sober and lucid for the rest of her life.

"_Such a pity…" _a toxic voice whispered in her mind. She shook her head, trying to focus on the gathering when she realized that most of the other patients had dispersed and Director Smith was walking towards her with determined strides. She froze, thinking maybe he'd seen her listening to the voice of her childhood tormentor in her head, but when he smiled and came to a stop in front of her she relaxed and hugged her arms waiting for him to speak.

"Sarah," he said her name so effortlessly as if it held no weight at all with voice like honey and eyes like the ocean, "I wanted to speak with you as soon as possible. I feel like there is a lot we need to discuss about your treatment and your future at this establishment."

A foreboding crept its way through Sarah's bones and settled into her body like an old friend. The director smiled happily and held an arm out indicating that they would be having this discussion right away. To Director Smith soon meant now, she would have to remember that. He waited for her to turn and exit the room before him. The sign of a gentleman, Sarah scoffed inwardly. She wasn't sure why she was being so nasty in her thoughts. Had she always been this way? Was this who she was without sedatives?

She scrunched her nose up at her own behavior. She didn't like it.

As they reached the director's office he threw the door open wide revealing grey-white walls and file boxes piled against the walls and on the cabinets behind his desk. There were two tattered blue chairs with wooden arm rests in front of his desk. A single snowglobe ornament with a rickety castle suspended on a hill winked next to the large table-top calendar littered with chicken scratch and notes jotted in the little spaces between the weeks. and waved her inside before following closely and closing it behind them. He motioned for her to sit and circled around his desk and tossing his doctors smock from beneath him as he sat. He pulled the top of the box open and Sarah craned her neck curiously, but the director covered the box again quickly. His eyes glinted in playful admonishment as he clicked his tongue and a decidedly familiar way that sent goosebumps over her skin.

"This is not for your eyes, Sarah," he said. With the lid angled towards her he pulled something from the box and into his lap, scooting his office chair forward so that it remained hidden. She pursed her lips unhappily.

"Not yet," he amended before continuing, "There was one thing I noticed when I was reading through all the patient files after I took this position. That the previous Floor Director and the idiot Therapist he employed were harming the patients more than helping them. You can't fix a problem by constantly avoiding it."

Sarah stayed quiet. She wasn't sure what he was going to be getting at, but she wanted to hear it, nonetheless.

"I understand that there was a tragic event in your life when you were fifteen," he continued. Sarah's heart squeezed violently as she thought of that night. She felt the panic bubble to the surface again as her breathing became erratic, "It's alright, I'm not going to talk about it."

His soothing words placed a damper on the impending doom she felt whenever someone made her speak about her experiences in the Labyrinth. She had been shown over and over again that what she had seen was wrong. It was the hallucination of a broken girl tormented by grief and unable to cope. She was flawed. She was sick. She needed help. They could help her if she'd just listen-

"Sarah," she glanced sharply up at him. The director was leaning towards her. His eyes were cautious and his features soft, "I'm trying to tell you that I believe you."

Her jaw fell open so quickly that she heard the hinges of it pop in her ears, "You what?"

He smiled. "In a way, of course. I don't really think magic exists, but I believe that you saw what you saw. You needed to go to this," he glanced down at an open chart on his desk, "Underground Labyrinth."

"Just, Underground or Labyrinth. Not both," she corrected but then paused thoughtfully, "No, I suppose that's not right, either. Yes, both. But, not both at the same time."

The director nodded and made a note of what she said in the chart. He looked up at her, his expression indicating that he wanted her to continue, but Sarah faltered. She was so used to being admonished for talking about the Underground like it was a real place.

_It is real. _

No, it's not. She glowered again trying to retreat into herself and protect her consciousness, what little of it she had left. The director sighed softly and set his pen down.

"I would really like you to talk to me about your experiences, Sarah," So familiar and so aggravating once more, "I don't believe you belong here. In fact, I know you don't. You're no more of a danger to society than I am. You experienced a great loss and suffered a psychotic break. It could happen to anyone. The fact that your parents turned you over to the Hospital at such a young age is regrettable. But, you're old enough to be reassessed, and I hope to clear you for reintegration into society so that you can put all of this behind you and live your life."

His words unfurled something in her that she hadn't felt in a very long time, something she thought might be close to hope. She hoped. What a strange and foreign emotion.

"The anti-depressants they had you on were… unnecessary if not overkill. It's probably taken them a very long time to work their way out of your system. I had the orderlies lower your dose over the last half year. We took you off of them completely about a month ago, how do you feel?"

A hysterical laugh burst from Sarah's throat, "I'm… lucid?"

"Almost, yes. Do you feel better?"

"I don't feel numb," she said bravely, "If that's what you mean."

The director smiled at her, "Cheeky. They told me you were like that a long time ago. I'm glad to see it's back, even if sporadically."

She smiled a little, "I'm… not sure what I'm feeling quite yet, but I feel normal enough now, I suppose."

"That's fantastic," he said making a few notes on his calendar, "Then, in about a week I want to see you back in here. You should be weaned off the meds completely by then and we'll have a chat about everything. I want you to face your demons, not flee from them." Director Smith looked up at her, pleasure in his blue eyes and a self-satisfied smile playing about his mouth.

"I have one more thing for you," he said pulling a small red leather book from his lap and Sarah's heart froze, "This belongs to you. The chart says it was your favorite book before the accident. I'd like for you to have it back so that you can jog your memory about the Labyrinth. And, partly because I also love a good book. It's a shame they took them away from you for ten years. That therapist was a hack and should have his license revoked." The director spat the last bit harshly and placed the book on the desk between them, tattered gold letters still legible and menacingly stamped into the crimson leather.

"I can have it back?" Sarah asked, her voice a mixture of excitement at having some tangible proof of sorts that at least she hadn't made everything up on her own and consternation at what having the book in her possession would bring. There was a source for all her wonder and woe and it lay bound in red leather mere inches from her fingertips.

Quickly she snatched up the book and thumbed through the pages, looking at the worn lettering and yellowed edges with happiness and caution. This was hers. It was the one thing in this whole place that belonged to her and she didn't have to share with anyone else, but it was also the reason she was here in the first place. The book automatically opened to the page she so often looked at when she was younger.

"_You have no power over me…_" she breathed, "I could never remember. How silly of me."

"Well, take it and read up. I've already read it cover to cover several times over, and I have to say your younger self had excellent taste in literature. I should like to show you more in this genre, but I need to make sure you can handle it first."

"I miss reading," she said absently folding the book to her chest and looking up at the director in front of her, "Thank you."

He smiled again. Sunlight through the rain.

Sarah lay in her bed that evening as the rest of the patients gathered for dinner. At some point during the afternoon they brought in a vanity for her to use which she ignored as she lay on her bed with her old book spread over the pillows, green eyes hungry for the words on the page. She hadn't read anything other than textbooks and medical journals in so long. She ached with every scenery description, cried with every adjective, and shivered with every word from the Goblin King. And, when she was finished she closed the book and held it close to her beating heart. Tears pricked the corners of her eyes as she felt a swell of emotion for the first time in what felt like an eternity.

More so because she knew _everything_. She had experienced all of it first hand, and it tore her heart to pieces because she didn't want to believe it was fake. She didn't want to think she was crazy. But, when her father had burst into her room while she had a conversation with Hoggle and Sir Didymus it was hard to pretend at fifteen that she had imaginary friends. She had been discovered. And, sent away.

She sat up after a while and slid the book under her pillow making sure that the Crimson edge couldn't be seen from any angle in the room in case one of her nosy ward mates decided to come snooping around while she was out. She almost left without glancing at the vanity, but a glint of light caught her eye and she stilled with her fingers on the knob before turning very slowly towards a visage she hadn't laid eyes on in years; her own reflection. The planes of her face, once soft and cherub like, were that of a grown woman now. Her lips were full and heart shaped, her eyes a bright green and deep as an ocean, her nose was still turned up at the end and her hair was dark like ink. She saw the rosy tint to her cheeks and the length of her throat covered in milky white skin. She was pale as a ghost with the same haunted look about her eyes.

But, as she turned away from the mirror, she caught sight of something she had never hoped to see again in her lifetime. A moon-faced barn owl perched still as a statue outside the window of her room. It's large black eyes endless and chilling stared straight at her and her pulse rocketed as she fumbled behind her for the knob of her door.

She burst into the hall huffing and wide eyed like a wild animal and a passing orderly grabbed her by the shoulders roughly.

"Whoa, Sarah, what's happening?" he asked looking down in concern as he dropped his folders to the ground, paper spilling over the polished floor. Sarah turned back to her room, no trace of the owl beyond the window into the looming twilight.

"I'm sorry," she breathed, "I thought I saw a bug in my room." The lie slipped easily from her lips and she practically sprinted away, not stopping to help the orderly as he ignored the strewn files and stepped into her room to check for the imaginary insect she mentioned. She made her way straight to the office of the only person who would be able to help her make it through the next week and on her way to freedom as long as her nightmares remained just that… Imaginary. Distant. Delusions. But, the faint cackle of laughter she heard buried deep in her memories shook her to her core and she trembled in fear.

_Please, let me be crazy_, she wished for the first time since running the Goblin King's maze,_ Please, don't let him be real_.

"By a route obscure and lonely,

Haunted by ill angels only,

Where an Eidolon, named NIGHT,

On a black throne reigns upright…"

Edgar Allan Poe

A/N: New story. I'll try to either rewrite or update For Just One Second. Hallucination was moving too quickly and horribly for me and I didn't like it. Please, be kind. It's been a long time since I've written for anyone but myself. I hope you all enjoy what I've worked hard to refine over the years. Please review! Thank you!

~ Kryhs


	2. Memories in Paraphrase

Memories in Paraphrase

That damned book sat on the table of Sarah's vanity as she stared at it from her bed. Her lips were pursed against her left knee with her thigh hugged tightly to her chest. Her other leg folded up underneath her at an odd angle and she was sure it would hurt as soon as she began moving again, but she could hardly care at the moment. The only thing she wanted was to stop seeing bi-colored irises and flashes of wicked smiles every time she closed her eyes.

Last night when she went to visit the director she found his office dark and locked tightly. He had gone home. Of course, he had. She returned shakily to her room, checking for owls and eyes and hair as wild as a beasts before she finally curled up onto her bed and tossed and turned all night. Never fully falling into a deep, gratifying sleep. She stared at her reflection in the mirror past the book on her vanity. Deep purple half moons clung to the skin beneath her eyes. Her lips were as pale as her skin and her cheeks were blanched and colorless. She looked horrible.

Now that she was holding her head above the battering waves of sedatives and levelers, she felt everything she was forced to forget for so long. All the wonder and terror. All the whimsy and danger. The memory of his breath on her face. The brush of his clothing against her skin as he sauntered past. The feel of his fingers on her spine as they danced. She was stuck in a glass case with all her nightmares pumped in and flooding the space. If it continued this was much longer she would soon be drowning in everything she didn't want to remember.

_He would love that. _

Some dark part of her whispered and she shivered. Still she thought about him. She went through all of this just to remember him all over again. It was like being given a reprieve and then having your head held under water. A tragedy. _Quel dommage_.

Sarah sat up, her head snapping away from her knee as she realized what she had just said in her mind.

"Ugh!" she cried, tasting the words like poison on her tongue. Would it ever stop? She stood, stomping loudly from her room and down the hall to the recreation room. Maybe reading something else for a change would help to distract her from the ridiculous fantasies that haunted her through time. A fantasy, how silly to describe the Goblin King that way. He was no more a fantasy than she a functioning member of society.

He was a cruel, deceitful, manipulative creature who terrorized children. He was the wickedest figment of any imagination. A crack in her picturesque veneer. A shadow cast over the moon. A black hole in her galaxy, sucking up all the light. Her own personal demon.

She hissed in the back of her throat as she stepped into the recreation room and plucked a random book from the shelf. Outside the sky was turbulent and grey. Clouds rolling by like looming giants rushing into battle. High in the atmosphere flashes of Zeus' lightning cracked the sky in two and shook the ground. The window rattled ominously with the distant boom of thunder. The rest of the patients where no where to be found, and for a peaceful rare moment she had the rec room all to herself.

Smiling gleefully to herself, Sarah threw herself into the window seat in the corner of the room and smoothed open the book in her lap so she could read the cover: The Gates of Horn. The cover was simple green leather with the title stamped into it and silver lettering faded to a grey dusty color. She hummed with anticipation as she opened the book and glanced briefly at the Author's name and the copyright page. The book was very old, published in Europe in 1926. She wasn't sure if it was even available in the United States since she'd never heard of it. The contents page jumped out at her. An anthology. How exciting!

Sarah tucked her legs against her body and settled against the wall as the rain began to tap a slow, earthy rhythm against the glass. She began thumbing through the pages when she noticed words that jumped out at her from the faded type.

_Faerie_.

_Puck_.

_Changeling_.

Damn it, she really was being haunted. By the entire Faerie race it seemed. Too lazy to get up and find another book, she readjusted herself and propped her elbow on the sill to cradle her head against her knuckles. She picked a story about a man from the Green Isle who met a woman at the edge of a grand lake nestled deep in the forest. He went to visit her every day to hear her sing and offer her pretty baubles in exchange for a chance to gaze upon her beauty.

"That asshole's dead…" she mumbled.

Hours later, Sarah had her nose so far into the book she hadn't noticed the sky roiling like a pot of black ink on a stove. The man had just been dragged under the algae filled waters of the lake and was very close to drowning when the lights flickered in the room and she finally peeled her pale green eyes from the page to look out the window. The trees tossed themselves about in the wind, violent and frantic. Foliage zipped past the window at high speeds as lightning splintered the night and shook the windows with an ear splitting force. And, without warning the breaker popped and she was plunged into darkness. Already, moans and shrieks echoed through the open door of the room. She heard the nurses and orderlies shouting over the din to prevent the possibility of panicked violence.

It had happened every single time there was a thunder storm. The recreation room was old and the wiring was shot. The hospital hadn't sent someone in to fix it because who cares about the insane, anyway? It's not like their priority is making sure the patients are thoroughly entertained, just that they eat enough to stay alive and don't try to kill each other or themselves during their stay.

Sarah placed her book face down in front of her and waited for an orderly to show up with a flashlight to reset the breaker. The patients weren't allowed to touch the electrical boxes. A smart move on the hospitals part, or the ones more detached from reality would either cause a fire or annoy the hell out of everyone on the same floor. The tame ones would be annoyed, anyway. The others would be livid. She thought idly to herself as she waited in the dark room as the forlorn cries of her ward mates bounced up and down the hall. Mundane. Ordinary. Routine. Her life would be fine. Fairy tales would fade and she would leave this horrible place and make a life for herself. Have a book store. Maybe have a family… maybe. In the flashes of lightning as Sarah imagined a life beyond the hospital she felt that everything would be alright one day… until the scratch of steel against stone dragged along the floor.

She turned slowly, not wanting to startle whoever was in the room with her. She'd seen other patients get stabbed with pencils and craft scissors for making sudden movements or speaking too loudly without preamble. And, Sarah was in no mood to bleed tonight. But, there was nothing there. No one huddling on the floor in the dark. No dark shadow crouching against the wall… until she looked farther.

"One… two… three… four… underneath the cellar floor…"

In the corner of the room diagonal from hers a shadow like an inky mass slithered and morphed against the back wall. Wings unfurled and collapsed. Horns grew to frightening lengths and then burst into tiny black flurries that danced before rejoining with the rest of the mass. The hair on the back of Sarah's neck raised slowly and she shook as the flesh of her arms puckered and the temperature plunged several degrees.

"Who's there?!" she called loudly. The lightning flashed again, illuminating the shadowy corner of nothing then plunged into darkest black again. Undulating and pulsing like a mass of organs without a body.

"Five… six… seven… eight… lovers will all suffocate…"

"That's not funny!" she cried. Sarah stood quickly, balancing precariously on the window seat and pressing her back against the cold glass behind her. As long as she could see the whole room she wouldn't be afraid. At least, that's what she told herself.

A heavy thunk vibrated the floor and slithered dryly against the tile towards her and the thing hissed again, faster as it slowly slunk across the floor.

"One, two… three, four… Underneath the cellar floor. Five, six… seven, eight… Lovers will all suffocate," The words oozed across Sarah's mind as she shivered against the freezing window. But, the thing continued towards her, the words spilling from it faster and faster and faster.

"One, two, three, four. Underneath the cellar floor. Five, six, seven, eight. Lovers will all suffocate," it cackled. The inky shadow pooled beneath Sarah's perch and bubbled like acid. A wet crop of hair protruded from the mass and blood red eyes stared up at her from the dark. It gurgled a wet, sucking chuckle and grew louder as it removed itself from the shadow around it. A noseless face and gaping, fanged maw clacking and spitting as it shrieked at her.

"One, two, three, four! Underneath the cellar floor! Five, six, seven, eight! Lovers will all suffocate! ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR! UNDERNEATH THE CELLAR FLOOR! FIVE, SIX, SEVEN EIGHT! LOVERS WILL ALL SUFFOCATE!"

"Shut up! SHUT UP!" Sarah screamed at the creature as it sprouted from the shadows like an evil weed, "Leave me alone!" It stopped moving when it stood the same height as her. Glowing red eyes burned into her own; paralyzing her where she stood.

"We're coming for you, Dream Wielder," it's voice dropped to a murderous whisper and Sarah gagged on the foul stench of rotting flesh and blood pouring like a miasma from it's mouth, "We're coming for you and no one can save you. Not even your Goblin Ki-"

The light flicked on and the grotesque creature disappeared.

"Sarah, what are you doing?!" A male nurse she had never seen before stood at the door with his hand on the switch. A concerned mask was settled over his features but his eyes were terrified. She would be, too, if she were in his position. Listening to a patient screaming bloody murder in the dark.

"I need to see Doctor Smith right fucking now!" she screamed at him.

* * *

><p>"Sarah, hysteria has many symptoms. Recently, the condition has been classified as it's own disorder. It can manifest itself in many ways. Are you sure you just weren't so frightened that you imagined-"<p>

"No! Don't you dare!" she cried slamming her hand on the director's desk, "You said not a day ago that you believed I didn't belong here. I'm not making this up! And, since when has hallucination been a symptom of hysteria?"

Smith pursed his lips, "Many different symptoms can emerge at once. Maybe the absence of the medicine after taking it for so long has created an imbalance in your brain's natural chemicals. It could just be a temporary paranoia as a result of your dependency on the medication."

Sarah threw herself into the chair behind her and rubbed her hands over her face tiredly. She kept her mouth covered with her fingers, watching the doctor carefully as he tried to explain away what just happened to her.

"I smelled it…"

"I'm sorry, what?" he asked, brows knit in concern.

"I smelled… decay, coming from its mouth. I felt the heat of it's breath on my face and I wanted to vomit from how close it was to me. If this was a result of being addicted to the medication then put me back on it. I don't want to see that ever again."

"Sarah, it hasn't even been a full day that I told you we've taken away your prescription. As your physician, I don't advise that you fall into an unhealthy habit of relying on pills to control your problems."

She grabbed the sides of her head, pressing against the headache forming behind her eyes, "Stop saying my name like we're friends."

"Beg pardon?"

"Stop talking to me like you know all about me!" she shouted, suddenly on her feet, "I'm sick of being treated like broken little Sarah who went nuts after her kid brother died! I'm not crazy. I'm not suffering from 'hysteria' or 'paranoia'; I'm _tired_. I just want to sleep. Just give me something to help me sleep, _please_." She looked at him, eyes filled with dread and exhaustion and supplication.

Smith looked up at her, his mouth drawn in a disappointed line as he folded his hands on his desk, "No."

* * *

><p>Sarah stared up at her ceiling as the shadows of trees against the moon clawed their way across the textured surface. She huffed indignantly as she thought back to the conversation she had with Smith inside his office.<p>

_ "Sarah, you can make it through this. You just need to take it one day at a time."_

"Idiot," she grumbled flopping over onto her side. She was so sick of being tossed around like a doll. Each new doctor giving her a different regimen. All the others had seemed content with dosing her stupid. Why did this one suddenly feel it was his life's mission to emancipate her from the pharmaceutical companies' pocket? Wouldn't it be more beneficial from a business perspective to have her paying through the nose for drugs she didn't need?

_He doesn't want you on the meds since he's actually a good doctor and you're acting like a brat._ She hated it when she was right.

With a heavy sigh, Sarah stared out into the last fleeting deep purple vestiges of the setting sun. The fiery disk was already hidden from view, deep, rich colors the only remnants that it even hung in the sky at all that day. The moon shown down onto the courtyard from a bed of glittering stars that twinkled like the bits of magic that floated through the air the first night shed laid eyes on- No! Instead, she thought of the blood red eyes of the wretched creature in the recreation room and shivered. The cryptic rhyme made her skin crawl. It's was likevoice like razor wire in a windstorm. And, the sickening way it whispered to her; called her Dream Wielder. What did that even mean? She hoped that Smith was correct and that it was only a hallucination; a side effect of the medicine leaving her body for good.

A flash of white caught her attention and she stared out at the shimmering profile of a barn owl.

"Figures," she said flatly, "Today wouldn't be complete unless you showed up, I guess." The owl stared serenely at her through the glass. He perched on the barest hint of sill and blinked one eye then the other, twisting his head around to gaze at the watery stars blinking lazily in the sky then back to Sarah. She pinched her face and stuck her tongue out at the bird. It ruffled its feathers in response. Not cute.

"I hope you're enjoying yourself…" she said acidly, "I also hope you get hit by a truck while flying over a highway. Stupid bird."

With that Sarah rolled onto her other side, back towards the contemptible creature who perched happily on her sill. She closed her eyes for a moment to rest the tired, burning green orbs and tumbled into the land of dreams.

_She opened her eyes to a pitch black room. There was no ceiling no floor. No walls. Just the endless nothing and the chill of nowhere all around her. She hadn't dreamed in such a long time. Her nights were always filled with the heavy, immovable sleep of prescriptions. Now, she stood anxiously in the circle of her mind and wondered how she ever enjoyed the vivid quality of her visions. How she rejoiced in them when she was younger. How they delighted her. How she prefered them over real life and sunshine and a decent cup of coffee. Now she'd never dream again if it meant she could have real food that didn't taste like cardboard and socks. _

_In this space… it felt like she had nothing to dream of. There was nothing left. There were no more words to make wishes. No magic left to create anything. At least she wore her papery hospital pants and tank top rather than a backless gown. She looked down at what she assumed was the floor and scuffed her hospital slipper against it. It seemed solid enough to move about, so she took a step and then another. With each step she felt herself moving forward, but the scenery never changes. Never moved or lurched or indicating that she was going anywhere at all._

"_Why would I dream about nothing…" she grumbled sourly._

"_You believe nothing, so you create nothing." The arrogant voice fell over her like a cascade of ice water and Sarah felt her muscles grow rigid and her bones begin to shake. _

No. Not here.

_Even as she begged, she knew that voice. Before she even turned she could see the planes of his face, the elegant sweep of his brow, the sharp glint of his teeth, the derisive curve of his mouth. When she finally laid her eyes on him she almost moaned in sorrow. There he was. Right there in front of her in all his menacing prowess. Cryptic and stoic and poised as ever. His strange eyes watched her, indecipherable thoughts hidden from her as his features remained locked in scornful amusement. The blonde mane of his hair was wild like a wolf's. But, he was different. Incomplete. Fuzzy around the edges like a hologram. _

"_It only makes sense. It's your fault, really: That I am left with nothing, and so are you. Let's call it divine retribution, shall we?" Jareth said standing a few yards away from her. He stood with his legs apart, leather boots pulled up to his knees and lambskin leather pants poured over lean muscled thighs like hot wax. His tunic fell open over the milk white skin of his chest and tucked into a purple brocade waistcoat. The golden amulet she'd always seen him wear hung from his neck as he pulled the edge of his glove farther up his wrist. _

"_Hello, Sarah," he said, words like ice sliding over her spine, "How I've _missed_ you." The sarcastic bite he thrust into his words didn't go unnoticed. And, this time, he let the unmitigated distaste he felt for her color the air and leave a bitter taste in her mouth._

_She remained quiet, hoping that her silence would send the vision away. Maybe she could gain better control over her dreams once she shed the last of her pharmacy haze. _

_The Goblin King laughed mockingly and moved in a lazy circle around her, "Is that what you think? That I'll just leave you alone if you pretend I'm not here?" He flashed her a toothy grin that didn't reach his eyes._

"_Not likely."_

"_Why not?" she asked, crossing her arms in a huff, "This isn't real. You're not here and this is all a dream. Why can't I force you out?"_

_He clicked his tongue disapprovingly at her, "Come now, I thought I taught you better than that." _

"_You didn't teach me anything," she sneered._

_He laughed again, happy with her anger, "Such an ungrateful creature. I should have punished you more when I had the chance."_

_Sarah glared at him and he continued his leisurely stroll around her. His body was relaxed, visibly at ease. But, his eyes. His eyes were sharp and predatory. He watched her like a bird of prey sizing up it's next meal from a hundred yards away. Undetected and deadly as the night. The pupil of his left eye remained large and fixed as he looked over her figure with keen interest. He stopped suddenly, the clip of his boots falling to silence in the emptiness around them. _

"_Why, little Sarah Williams," he said, a dark hunger lacing his words, "All grown up…" She shivered in disgust and wrapped her arms around herself trying to shield her body from view. _

"_You're disgusting," she spat. _

"_I aim to please," he promised, the salacious glint in his eyes hinting a dark promise._

_With a feigned bashful smirk he resumed his pacing about her, hands clasped behind his back carefully. He didn't speak again, content to stalk her like prey for the time being. She waited impatiently for herself to wake up. The time she spent in his company felt like hours and she hated every second of it. It had to be morning by now, right? But, the seconds crept by, measured only by his slow steps around her and Sarah grew restless. She shifted from foot to foot, trying to ignore the burn of his gaze on her face and throat. _

"_What are you doing here?" she asked finally and he came to a stop somewhere behind her. She resisted the urge to turn around and stare him down. Having the enemy at her back made her uncomfortable, but she was too stubborn to show him that he got under her skin already. Real or not. _

"_You tell me," his breath tickled the hair at her temples and she jumped in surprise. She felt his smile in the air around them. The energy that licked the space between them and tickled over her skin took on a pleased feeling. He enjoyed her distress. Basked in it._

"_It's your dream. Why are you calling me here, Sarah? Do you miss me?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous. She felt the leather of one of his gloves ghost along the inside curve of her elbow._

_She wrenched herself away and spun to face him, "Don't touch me!"_

_She was met with his wicked toothy grin and he reveled in her misery, "Sarah, you're much less fun than last time. Though, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't enjoying myself."_

"_Because, you can't lie, can you?"_

_He smiled at her quietly. Half-truths and trickery. Never lies. What a good Fae he was._

"_I have spent the last ten years in an institution because of you," she ground out darkly, "I have been fed pill after pill to convince me that you don't exist and you know what? It worked. You don't exist. You're a nightmare created by a spoiled little girl who thought that life wasn't fair because she lived in the real world and not a fairy tale."_

"_So, you've finally realized how much of a petulant child you once were."_

_She balked at his audacity. He was completely ignoring the fact that she was banishing him as a phantom of her past._

_Sarah rushed up to him and slapped the Goblin King hard across the perfect plane of his cheek, "I hate you! You are a pebble in my shoe! A gnat who won't leave me alone- No, you're lower than that. You're dirt! Dust!" Her lip curled in defiance as she raised herself on her toes to stare him straight in the eye. Danger be damned. He couldn't touch her._

_For a long moment his eyes glowed with rage as he stared down the regal line of nose at her, his mouth twisted in a terrifying grimace and his right pupil fluctuated as he watched her. After a long moment he opened his mouth to speak, but Sarah cut him off._

"_Leave me alone…" she warned._

_He stood at his full height - intimidating and cold and cruel - as he stepped away from her. Watching her, hunting her, hating her. _

"_It's what you keep that you create. It's always been you. That delicious imagination of yours. But, I wonder if you could even hope to fathom the burden you bear…" When she didn't answer him he made a soft humorless noise in his throat, "I am only a shade of your memories. A paraphase." _

_He swept his leg behind him and tucked his arm against his abdomen as he dipped into a low bow before looking up at her and shimmered out of existence._

Sarah sat up in bed in the early hours of dawn. Pale silver and blue light streaking through the horizon as she blinked up at her ceiling. She needed help. This wasn't working. She needed the deep, dreamless sleep of her medication. How was she going to survive when his ghost still lingered in her subconscious? And, what if it was actually him in there? What if he had made contact with her now that her psyche was as vulnerable as a child's. At least the medication shut down her faculties. He couldn't get to her if she couldn't think about him.

She pressed the heels of her palms into her eyes and inhaled deeply. When she moved her hands away from her eyes two blazing red orbs haloed in maddened yellow sclera stared down at her. The scream stuck in her throat. Dry cotton. Burning. Suffocating. The creature's eyes widened, if at all possible. The red of it's eyes tiny islands in the impossible expanse of it's yellowed eyes and it's mouth split open with a husky exhalation of putrid fog; fangs dripping with saliva.

"One…" it whispered.

Sarah blinked and the vision was gone.

She scrambled from her bed, ankles tangling in the covers and almost wrenching her feet out from under her. She crossed the room in a frenzy, determined to ask for her medication again so that she could sleep and be rid of these tormenting hallucinations.

Her hand lingered on the knob. This was crazy.

_Well, duh_, She jeered, _You're in a ward, for Christ's sake. _

Smith had told her to take it one day at a time. If going back on the medication would mean she'd see all these horrors again when she went through withdrawal… She didn't want that. The smartest move was to go through them here in a safe environment. Where they could sedate her if it got out of hand. She ran a shaky hand through her hair and went back to her bed, collapsing on the foot of it. Sarah laughed pitifully and braced her elbows on her knees. Her head hung morosely in her lap.

She was tired already.

The past thirty-six hours wearing down on her like a ton of bricks. Her fingers pressed along the tight muscles in her neck as she tried to ease the tension. Her body was starting to respond to her brain's folly.

_It's just the beginning_, she reminded herself, _Soon you'll be out of here. You'll have the world at your feet. You can do this._

Sarah sat with her head down, dark hair falling around her like an organic wall to shield her from reality. She sucked in deep cleansing breaths through her nose and passed them through her lips in a controlled release.

"Sarah?"

The voice was gravely and somehow soft. Who the hell was calling her? She hadn't even heard the door open. Sometimes her fellow patients liked to sit in her room with her, or ask her to read them a book provided by the hospital. She wasn't sure why. She tried her best not to socialize with anyone. Not that she was mean spirited or anything. She just never felt interested in conversation. In anything. Another reason why being off the medication was a good thing.

"Sarah?"

"Yes?" she asked not bothering to look up. Silence answered her and she tilted her head until her hair fell away to reveal her closed door. There wasn't even shadow beneath the gap or a face peering in the little hatched window set in the thick particle wood. She looked out the window first. No owl. Then into the corners of her room for the shadow creature that frightened her.

"Can you even see me, Sarah?"

"Where are you?" she asked despite herself. Something in the voice tugged at her heart. It sounded inviting and warm and familiar. She wasn't afraid. She was… excited.

"I'm here, Sarah. We're here. We've always been here."

She turned and looked into her mirror, the lone reflection of her eyes shining back at her from the glass. She almost turned away to look behind her before the wavering edge of something hovered behind her shoulder. She focused on it. Two sky blue eyes melting into view. A furrowed brow. A bulbous nose. A cragged face like a cliff. Pointed ears and a dirty leather cap.

Sarah gasped as she watched her old friend materialize at her side in the mirror. He watched her with a forlorn expression. Tired eyes and deep set lines around his mouth. More than she remembered.

"Hoggle?" she breathed.

His eyes brightened as if the light was suddenly switched on, "Sarah?"

Her heart swelled and she leaned towards the mirror knowing he wouldn't be behind her even if she looked. He was in Underground. He was alive. Or, she was still crazy. Most likely crazy.

"Sarah… what happened to you?"

* * *

><p>Deadlight Holiday;<p>

Killing time to make us stay;

Hollow as the promises of yesterday.

On and on the music plays;

Memories in paraphrase

Falling past my window like the morning rain.

Holiday; The Birthday Massacre

A/N: I wanted to push out the first two chapters as soon as I could so I could give everyone something to look forward to. I've set a goal for myself to write a chapter every week in order to finish this story. I'm hoping to break my bad habit of abandonment with this one and prove that I can complete something. It's a very dark story, but I hope you all don't mind. It'll get lighter later. Promise.

Please review! I would greatly appreciate it!

Ciao loves,

~ Kryhs


	3. Raise Me Higher

Raise Me Higher

* * *

><p>"That's a long story, and I'm not sure I'm ready to tell it," Sarah felt the lie sink bitterly into her tongue. She had just told the Goblin King where she was. Granted, she hadn't told him all the details, but she had told him none the less. She hugged one of her knees close to her chest and watched Hoggle forlornly. Her heart hurt just looking at him. He looked so vibrant. So real.<p>

Her mind was a cruel place; to tease her with visions of a friend that she cared so much for who didn't even exist.

"Even if you were ready, I don't have enough magic to keep this connection up for long," he said gruffly. Not enough magic?

"What do you mean you don't have enough magic?" she asked with concern.

"Just that. The magic in the Labyrinth is waning. Everything is falling to pieces and there's not much we can do about it."

"What's happened there?"

"A lot of things. But, it all started when the King went missing."

"He's missing?!" she cried, "But, how?! I-" she was about to tell him that she'd seen him in her dream, but thought better of it. It wasn't the real Jareth… right?

"That's just it. He's been gone a long time. Almost as long as you have."

"What?"

"After you defeated him, it took him a long time to put the castle back in order… but, then he just vanished. Without him the land began to fall apart. All of the Goblins have either abandoned ship or been captured, now all that roam the land are the Dark Ones."

"The Dark Ones?" Sarah asked, "What are those?"

"Dark Faeries… evil creatures. Ludo and I have been lucky enough to avoid being captured. But, they have Didymus."

"No…" Sarah breathed, feeling the tears prick her eyes. She dashed them away quickly, sniffling as she moved.

"Sarah…" Hoggle said softly, "Where were you?"

She turned to look at him, feeling her heart break with the pained look in his eyes. His face looked so worn. So tired. He looked like he might not be able to hold his image for much longer.

"You said you'd call us if you needed us… but, what about if we needed you? It's been so long, Sarah. We thought you'd forgotten us."

"No, Hoggle," she choked softly, "I could never-"

"Then where were you?"

She didn't know how to answer him. Was it the medicine that kept the actual visions at bay? It only made sense if that were true. Ever since the medicine left her system shades and voices and even Jareth began following her. What was worse is they seemed just as real as ever. Just as real as they did when she was younger. When everything ended that night. When she failed in the one thing she was striving so hard to achieve in the Labyrinth. Her heart trembled, a panic attack swelling quickly as her breaths quickened.

"Hoggle, I'm so sorry… I don't… I can't anymore. I can't help anyone."

He sighed, his blue eyes shimmering sadly, "I understand, Sarah. But, if you find it in your heart to try. We need you. All of us do. Please, Sarah. Find Jareth. Help us. Save Underground from the Qu-"

The door to Sarah's room burst open and she turned to see a fellow patient staring at her in anger. It was Grace. She shrank back from the look on the older woman's face. Worried that she had been caught talking to herself.

"You tread into dangerous waters!" screamed the woman, "Mind your business or you'll be the ruin of us all, you brat!"

"What?" Sarah felt her limbs quake. Did she know? Did she know about Underground? Did she sense the things coming for Sarah? Did she actually see everything Sarah did? For the briefest of seconds hope swelled inside of her that everything she knew before was real. Magic was real. Her friends were real. She wasn't at fault for the incident. She would be absolved.

But, Grace cackled wildly, an exaggerated laugh wheezing as the woman's wild eyes unseeingly stared at her before she flailed her arms and dashed out the door and down the hall.

At that point, Sarah decided it was time for her first therapy session with Adam Smith, and she grabbed her book from under her pillow and headed towards his office.

* * *

><p>"Sarah, I can't tell you how pleased I am that you're coming to me with all this," Smith beamed happily at her from the seat across from her in the counseling room. They sat in two puffy chairs designed to make the patients comfortable as they spoke about traumatic events in their life… or just their delusions. The room was painted light blue with soft fluffy cloud trim running the top of the room. The bottom trim looked like grass with tiny multi-colored flowers sprouting from it. It was supposed to be a relaxing room for the patients to open up in. A comforting space.<p>

It looked like a pediatrician's waiting room. It was stupid. Like everything else. Sarah had been in here many times with her previous therapists. She felt nothing each time she had to meet them. Once a week for what felt like an eternity of "Don't talk about that". And, "Magic is a parlor trick created to impress the simple minded". And, worst of all, "You're sick and we're just trying to help you". She hated that one the most. They didn't care about her or whether she got better or not. They just pumped her full of prescriptions and lined their pockets with insurance money. Bureaucratic bullshit.

All that aside, Sarah was starting to feel more like herself the longer she went without her medication. Apart from her hallucinations, she was happy with the way she was feeling. She felt strong and alive. Awake. Lucid. Aware of… certain feelings blossoming in her body.

"How are you feeling?" Smith asked affably.

"Better, though, I needed to talk to you about my hallucinations," she said leaning forward and folding her arms on top of her knees, "I'm not so sure they're going away like you said. If anything, they're becoming more personal. I saw… a friend today."

"You hallucinated a schoolmate?"

"No," she tucked her long dark hair behind her ears, "No, I saw a friend… from the Labyrinth. In my mirror not twenty minutes ago."

Smith was quiet for a long moment. Though his mouth was set in a quirked line, his eyes shown excitedly. And, not for the first time she felt that there was something going on in his mind that he wasn't disclosing to her. And, she doubted he ever would. Most likely using "Science" or "Medicine Journal Research" as the excuse.

"What did he look like?" he asked suddenly.

"What does that have to do with anything?" Sarah replied almost immediately.

Smith schooled his features and perched his fingertips against each other as he thought over something. "This may be forward of me, but… I feel like I'm responsible for you. I… There's something about you that draws me in," he said with a bashful glance from his jeweled eyes, "I know it's not appropriate to say this. There's a code, you see. But, I want you to tell me everything. I want to know everything about you and your condition. I really want to help you, but I also want to know you. All of you."

Sarah stammered for a moment, "I don't really… understand…"

"I'm saying I like you, Sarah. I've been following your case since I started. Watching you in the halls. It broke my heart to see you so lost," His face grew dark, "Those idiots just kept you dazed and leveled until you were useless and emotionless. It should be a crime."

"I don't think…" she said. She'd never really thought of the Director like that.

_Except for the first day you mistook him for the Goblin King_. She hissed at herself to shut up.

"I think you're beautiful," she felt herself blush, "And, if possible I'd like to help you get out of here so that I can take you on a date when we're not bound by professional obligations."

"I'm flattered, but I don't really know what to say," she mumbled. Sarah smoothed her hair down, conscious of her unkempt look from years of being in the ward.

"Oh, it's far to early for me to expect you to respond to my feelings in kind," he said with a smile like the sun. He really was such a kind man, "Let's focus on working through your issues. One step at a time, Sarah. You can count on me."

Sarah smiled sheepishly.

"Now, Hoggle: tell me about him," he said clicking the end of his pen and preparing to write notes on his legal pad.

Sarah recounted from the first vision she'd had the other day until this very morning. She told him everything. The owl. The shade. Jareth. And, about Hoggle and her friends. She told him about Underground and how she'd been there before. She didn't go into excessive details, but just gave him enough to bring him up to speed on where her crazy life was at. She couldn't help but smile as she spoke, heart fluttering at the thoughtful look on his face and the way his eyes looked directly into hers. Romance seemed nice, at least. But, she still wasn't sure she was ready for such a deep emotional connection.

_God, Sarah, he just confessed. It's not like he actually asked you to be with him. Stop jumping the gun_, she chastised.

"What a vivid imagination you have," he said with admiration, "You must have read so much when you were younger. A lot of what you described are creatures documented in Celtic and Fairy Lore."

"Really?" Sarah asked. She had gone to school here in the hospital. Finishing her high school years with a B-average, not really interested or hopeful enough to have a life outside of the hospital. It didn't matter what she learned for real-world application and careers. She wouldn't be part of it. She thought she wouldn't. But, this… this was a glimmer of hope. A ray of optimism in the gloom of forever. She craved a life away from grey hospital walls and scratchy paper thin clothes.

She wanted color. She wanted life and literature and dancing and conversation and love. She wanted things for the first time in a long time. And, she was _excited_. A happy giggle bubbled through her and Smith laughed with her, assuming it was a result of his compliment.

"Yes! I'll have to bring you some books to read sometime. I'm something of an devotee of the Fae, myself," he smiled widely, as if he were laughing at some private joke. But, Sarah was excited to finally have a conversation with someone about the things she used to love as a child. And, an actual conversation. Not a discussion about her bad habits and how unhealthy her imagination had become.

"I would love that," she sighed cradling her chin in her palm as she looked at Smith across the space, "I really would."

Suddenly, the room went cold and Sarah's features turned rigid. There was a mirror on the wall behind Smith and she saw a misty black cloud floating just behind her. She saw the color drain from her face quickly and Director Smith stood and took her by the shoulders.

"Sarah. Sarah!" he called trying to gain her attention.

The thing's mouth materialized out of the chaos and it split into a sickening grin.

"Two! Two! Two!" it cackled, "Two by day, and two by night. Two for wrong, and two for right. Two if sorrow. Two if pain. Two, to never breath again."

Sarah screamed and upset the chair as she rushed forward, "There!" She turned to look behind her but the thing was gone and they were alone once again in the comfortable room. Director Smith looked over to the corner she stared at, but nothing was there. He couldn't see it, of course. It was all in her mind.

"Sarah you're shaking like a leaf," she felt Smith's arms around her holding her tightly to his chest. He smelled like clean soap and aftershave. The sudden drop of adrenaline made Sarah's stomach feel queasy and her teeth chatter.

"You're okay," he cooed, "I'm with you. I won't leave you."

She felt the tears rush to her eyes and she sobbed into his chest as he held her tenderly, "I just want this to stop. I want to be free of all this torture!"

For a long time she cried into his shirt and he just held her. When she was done he smoothed her hair back from her face and wiped the tears from her cheeks. She apologized for staining his shirt and he laughed, like a gentleman. When she felt strong enough to stand he helped her up and opened the door for her. Hand lingering tenderly on her lower back.

"I'm so sorry… that must have looked absolutely ridiculous," she said, ashamed of her reaction.

"No, no. It's understandable. You're going through a lot, but that's why I'm here. Don't be afraid to come to me with anything. In fact, promise me that you will."

Sarah smiled softly, "Okay."

Smith sent her back to her room telling her that her progress was astounding and to keep her chin up from now on. As they passed by the nurses' station he gave them explicit directions to call him should Sarah need anything at all. No matter what time of day it was. And, Sarah felt herself standing a little taller as she made her way back to her room. Suddenly tired from relief. She decided to take a nap before she went back to the rec room to read again.

She flopped onto her squeaky, uncomfortable mattress and lay there staring up at the ceiling happily and drifted off in peace.

* * *

><p>Sarah cradled her chin in her palm as she watched Jareth strut about in front of her. They hadn't said a single word to each other since she started dreaming. Just occupied the same aggravating space. It felt like they'd been here for hours. Her casting furtive, pinched glances in his directions, and he continuously watching her from the corner of his eyes. She felt his heated gaze on her skin even when she wasn't looking in his direction. Especially so when he was out of her line of sight.<p>

With Smith's confession earlier, she was suddenly very aware of herself as a woman. And, feeling Jareth's eyes on her did nothing to help that sudden realization. She had never even been able to entertain the idea of romance. Never really pulled herself out of that fog enough to think about her emotions as a female. Not that there were any particularly attractive choices.

Not when your very first suitor was _him_.

He stepped directly to her left causing her to jump and watch him from the corner of her eye. He was trying to intimidate her into conversation. Fat chance.

"You're so quiet. A decided improvement over your nasal jabbering," Jareth mused from somewhere behind her.

Sarah stuck her nose into the air without turning to look at him, "I have nothing to say to you." Her tone was matter-of-fact. Final. No room for him to -

"But, I do so love our talks, Sarah."

She closed her eyes and suppressed a growl. He wouldn't get to her, not this time. No way.

"The silent treatment is hardly a mature strategy. Wouldn't you say?"

She turned sharply to him and opened her mouth to retort, but seeing his gleeful expression she quickly snapped her mouth shut and looked forward once more.

"Well, if you're not going to speak to me, then I guess I shall start speaking to you," he stepped into her line of sight, dressed the same as he was in her previous dream, and somehow managed to remain graceful and perfect as he lowered himself to the ground and lounged in front of her, "But, where to begin. There's so much to say."

Sarah hugged her knees to her chest and watched him prop his arm upon his knee. The picture of elegance and luxury. The Goblin King in all his finery. Haunting the dreams of a broken girl who didn't believe in magic anymore.

"I wondered for a long time, as you flitted about my kingdom, if you thought of me at all. Did you think about me as you faced trial after trial? Did you see my face in every turn of the maze? Did you yearn for me as you drowned in the spell I put you under?" He paused for a moment and watched her with dangerous eyes and she remained silent. Her dark hair spilled over her right shoulder, exposing the line of milky skin from her throat to the valley of her breasts. She noticed his eyes traveling down away from her face and hugged her knees tighter to her chest to block his view. He only smiled wickedly once more and tilted his head attractively as he continued.

"I often watched you through my crystals. I watched the wonder in your eyes. The way you're expression blossomed when you encountered something new. You were beautiful in your unabashed youth," a tiny smile graced his lips for the briefest moment. How sick was she that her own imagination was creating a dark desire from this being in front of her. How desperate for attention she must be, "You were wild and brave, leaving destruction in your wake."

"Destruction?" she couldn't stop herself. The question slipping indignantly in between them. The Goblin King ignored it.

"Fickle Sarah. Courageous Sarah. Champion of her infant brother. Defeater of the King. Wielder of Dreams," he whispered.

Her dark brows drew together, "What did you just say?"

"I craved you."

She couldn't breathe.

"You were like water sent to quench my agonizing thirst," his eyes were far away now. The bright mischief replaced with a slow burning hunger. She swallowed thickly, the force of his words heavy stones on her chest.

"You were but a child. Not exactly becoming of someone my age to become so… fixated on a youth," he said turning to gaze to the nothingness at his side and breaking the trance his eyes had created, "I was obviously tricked into my obsession."

"Tricked?!" she snapped, "What did I do to ever trick the Great Goblin King?"

"_You_ did everything, Sarah," he said turning back to her, fury lighting his alien eyes and darkening the hollows of his face, "_You_ were the cause of ruin and chaos. _You_ asked me to take the child. _You_ challenged me to raise the stakes of the game. _You_ wanted a formidable opponent. _You_ opposed me at every turn. _You_ changed the words of the story. How long will you feign this infallible sense of righteousness and martyrdom you seem so proud of?"

She glowered at him, "I would be careful if I were you. This is my dream. I could make you stop talking."

"No more than you could force yourself to stop thinking of me," he sneered.

Sarah shut her mouth with a snap and turned from him again. He was so infuriating, and what was more aggravating is that he only spoke the truth. Even in the years she spent frightened of bringing up the very idea of Underground and the Labyrinth she still thought of him. In lessons she learned. In bonds she forged. In the glint of eyes that could almost pass as his but weren't quite faerie enough. She loathed him, and even so he fascinated her. As he always did. He was right; She would never be rid of him.

"Still," she began forcing all the bravado she could muster into her words, "You are still the shell of my past. It doesn't make you any more real just because I can't get rid of you in a dream."

"_Au contraire_, my sweet," The foreign words delightfully rolled off his tongue. Stop it, Sarah, "Isn't that exactly what it means?"

"No," she said forcefully, "It doesn't. All it means is that I'm fucked. For the rest of my life, I have to deal with some twisted part of myself that emulates you in voicing my own self-deprecating thoughts; which, is really clever of my subconscious. Because, I still hate you with every fiber of my being. And, it only shows how much of a fucked up individual I am that what essentially equates as the Boogey Man to my fifteen year old self still follows me to this day; ten years and thousand doses of antipsychotics later.

"And, what's worse is I still blame myself every damn day. With every shuddering, excruciating breath I take I have to live with the knowledge that my own idiotic, absentminded daydreaming killed my tiny little infant brother; The one you claim I defended with so much valiance and tenacity. Toby died because I was too busy daydreaming about you and your maze and the stupid book. He was in his crib, scared and alone and I didn't even hear it happen.

"So, no. You don't exist. You're not real, and I have a problem and it's the reason he's gone and why I need to be in here until I get rid of you. For good," she didn't realize she had been standing until she glared down at the Goblin King with panting breaths as she came down from her heated tirade. What did she care if he was missing from Underground. Even better if he was dead. Good riddance! But, she was lying to herself. Even as she thought the words she felt guilty for the bitterness of them and what it meant for her friends if she abandoned them… If it was even real at all.

She smoothed her hair down over her head and covered her mouth with her hands as she suffocated on her own grief. What good did it do to tell her subconscious a story it already knew? But, wasn't this okay? Wasn't this sort of like healing? Didn't this mean she was coming to terms with the part of herself that needed to be fixed?

He was quiet for such a long time that she turned to see if he was still there. He had stood somehow and placed himself directly at her side. His head bowed toward her and his eyes searched hers for something he seemed to find upon a glance. He reached up with a gloved hand to touch the side of her face, but as his fingers neared her skin a cackle like razors on granite echoed about them.

Jareth's attention snapped to a point far behind her, "Is this your doing?"

"No," Sarah whispered tensely, already feeling the inky shadows licking at her feet and raising the gooseflesh to the surface of her skin, "But, this is the first time it's followed me into sleep."

The Goblin King's eyes were sharp and wild as he looked at her quickly, "The shade haunts you while you're awake?"

The grave look on his face spoke volumes. Everything was wrong. Even her internal version of Jareth was raising little red flags for her to take heed. Something was up and she was at the center of it. Sarah turned slowly to see the shadow creature rippling leathery patches of itself and extending wicked sharp talons to puncture the floor of her dreamspace and drag it's bulbous body forward as it shrieked impishly in their direction.

"Three, three, threethreethree!" it crowed as it gained speed, it's hulking form thrashing behind it wildly.

Sarah backed into Jareth, mildly surprised that he was solid. She felt strong hands reach up to grip her shoulders and pull her aside. Jareth stepped in front of her, the wild mane of his hair partially blocking the creature from her view. Sarah wondered why he held his arm back to keep her in the circle of his reach and out of harm's way. His broad shoulders coming up eye level as he leaned forward. Sarah felt his energy pulsate around her. Protective. Possessive. She shivered and ducked behind him. As much as she wanted to be disgusted with him, she was grateful. She didn't know how to protect herself from this creature. And, subconscious or not, Jareth was her only defense.

His features became dauntingly calm. The regal set of his brow was smooth and his mouth a straight, relaxed line. Only his eyes gave away how he calculated the movements of the shadow lurking towards them.

A spiney tendril shot towards Sarah, aiming right for her neck with whiplike motions. But, the Goblin King raised his arm, deflecting the creature with a flick of his wrist. It stalled momentarily. It's limbs falling limply at its sides before it shuddered… as if excited. As if it were pleased.

"Ugly thing," he chuckled, "What could it possibly want with you?"

"Goblin King! Goblin King!" it cried enthusiastically.

"What a delight," he exclaimed pushing Sarah back a step and then another. Though his voice was light and playful, his eyes were sharp and his back rigid, "My reputation still precedes me. Even in the recesses of your mind, Sarah."

"It's not really the time to be impressed."

"Nonsense, one can always spare a moment to appreciate one's own prominence."

"You're so arrogant," she muttered.

"I've found him! He lives! Hidden trickster! Dream Maker! Stolen away into the mind of his lover! I've found him!" The thing shot forward, advancing on them quicker than before.

"Did you hear that? It believes us to be lovers."

"Now is NOT the time!" Sarah cried as she started to run.

Jareth quickly followed, hot on her heels and powerful at her back. She knew he could easily outrun her, but he stayed there. Behind her. Half a step, sometimes more. Why? Why was he putting himself between her and the creature?

Sarah could see the shade's limbs flicking and grabbing in the corners of her eyes. She was losing momentum. Weren't you supposed to be invincible in dreams? But, she grew tired. The longer they ran the more she skipped and tripped over the arms of the creature. The heavier her breathing turned, the more her lungs and legs and arms burned from exertion. She wasn't going to make it. She was going to die in her dream because she didn't know how to control her own thoughts.

A darkness heavier than she'd ever felt loomed up over them like a giant wave cresting before it broke.

"Forgive me, Darling, but _move_ your _ass_," he growled behind her.

"I'm trying!" she panted. Jareth's fingers pressed into her back when she slowed. Followed by one palm and then the other, until finally he scooped her into his arms and dashed like lightning through the clouds.

"You're not making this easy, Sarah," she felt his voice rumble through his chest as she was pressed tightly against him.

"It's not my fault! I didn't bring it in here!"

He scoffed and swung her up over his shoulder, his arm firmly gripping the backs of her thighs against his chest as he weaved underneath a swinging limb as large as a trunk. The thing kept coming, spilling over itself and sliding across the floor like black water. Sarah tried to wiggle from his grasp, but Jareth smacked her backside in warning.

"Hey!" she cried out, blushing furiously.

"Save your modesty for another time." Jareth wrapped an arm over Sarah's lower back and leapt skyward, swinging her up and out of reach of a glinting dagger shaped claw that reached for the soft flesh of her thighs.

"Two! Two! Through the Gates at three! Hiding in dreams! Conspiring against the Queen! He lives!" the creature bellowed as it snatched at their clothes and tore at their hair. Sarah felt a scratch like a hot knife drag across her cheek and screamed as a cold, icy tendril wrapped around her arm. She cried out. Her skin burned from the freezing temperature. Jareth gripped the thing just above where its wrist would be and squeezed until a sickening crack sounded in Sarah's ears and the thing howled in pain; Immediately letting go of Sarah and wrapping itself around Jareth's boots.

The Goblin King twisted in it's grasp, holding Sarah tightly against him and away from the shade. He rocked backwards, slashing at the black mass with his fingers splayed; magic erupting like sparks from the tips of his glove.

"Do something!" he growled at her tumbling backwards. As he fell, he pulled Sarah on top of him, shielding her from the fall. He kicked the creature in its gaping maw; yellow fangs cracking as sickening grey blood oozed from its mouth.

"Like what?!" she yelled thrashing against the grasping, icy fingers of the shade.

"Of all the - Use your words, you stupid girl!" Jareth twisted until Sarah was pinned beneath him, using his body to shield her from the attacking thing that snapped and scratched. Use her words? What the hell did that mean? She heard Jareth snarl and looked up to see thick, rope like shadows squeezing around his arms and neck.

"Kill the king, kill the king! Suffocate! Sssqueeeeeze him!" She scrambled up and tore at the shadows feeling her nails crack and break. The inky skin of the creature split under her tearing fingers and putrid grey ooze squeezed from the minor wounds she inflicted, searing her skin like acid and smelling like death. She felt Jareth surge forward, pulling against his living restraints as it squeezed tighter. Her eyes met his, begging him, pleading him to tell her what to do.

"Sarah!" he choked out, "Your right words!"

Dawning comprehension lit the green of Sarah's eyes and she grasped Jareth's collar tightly before tilting her head back, "I wish there was light in this stupid dream!"

The ground shook. The sky broke. And - with an earth shattering boom and a blinding flash - a light as bright as the sun broke through a crack in the sky. Crystal shards rained down from above and sliced the skin of Sarah's arms as she shielded her eyes. The creature screamed and erupted in flame and smoke. Jareth tumbled out of it's grasp and covered Sarah's body with his own as she screamed.

"No! My queen!" It shrieked as it's body boiled into nothingness. The smell made Sarah gag as she caught Jareth falling forward. Released from the hold of the creature.

The Goblin King gasped and slumped over her. Hot breaths rolled over her neck and making her shiver from adrenaline and abrupt awareness of hard line of his body pressed tightly against her.

"Hey," she muttered into the fabric on his shoulder. He didn't respond but she felt his body go slack and lost her balance, unable to hold his weight. They collapsed to the floor. The Goblin King's body landing heavily on top of her own. Still, he didn't stir and Sarah felt her pulse jump. Panicked that the creature had injured him, Sarah pushed up against his chest and tried to roll him off her body so that she could look for wounds.

_I'm just worried since he's a part of me_, she kept repeating to herself, _I'm not actually worried about him. Just my brain._

"Hey!" Sarah cried shaking him, "There's no way you're that hurt, are you?"

She felt the tip of his nose caress the tender spot behind her jaw as he released a pleased sound from his throat. She froze. Her fingers curled against his shoulders and his hands clutched at her waist.

"You're finally beginning to smell the way you did the first time I laid eyes on you."

"Eagh!" Sarah cried shoving Jareth off her. She tucked her knees up under his abdomen and pushed with all her strength until he fell onto his side as she scrambled away, "You're so annoying!"

He grinned up at her from his place on the ground, a ring of blue and purple vibrant against the pale skin of his throat. She dropped to her knees and pulled the high collar of his shirt aside. Her fingers touched the bruised skin softly, examining it for any breaks and pooling.

"Why, Sarah," Jareth cooed, reaching up and stroking her clavicle with the soft leather of his glove, "I didn't know you cared."

"Shut up," she snapped, shoving his hand away with her elbow, "I'm only concerned what this means for my psyche. You're not real, remember?"

Jareth was quiet as she examined him and she smirked happily thinking she'd won the round. But, his fingers reached up and stroked the side of her face and she looked down into his mismatched eyes and he stole her breath away. He lay there on the ground. The watery dream-light shining down on him like fairy dust and fascination. His eyes were simmering ethereally. The alienness of him rattled her to her core. His perfect face haloed by the wheat blonde tangle of his hair. And, she cursed herself for even thinking the word perfect when it came to him; though, it did describe him perfectly. A shaky breath whispered past her lips. His hand cupped the back of her neck and pulled her down until her hair cascaded about them. She chewed her bottom lip with uncertainty. Her skin tingling where his glove touched her.

"You're staring, heroine mine," he whispered seductively.

She shook his touch from her body, pulling out of his grip in indignation, "I'm not your anything." Sarah pushed herself to her feet and looked around the space now. They were in a bright room now, with a high domed ceiling as white as clouds and walls that extended into the distance forever. A decided improvement over the endless black nothing of her previous dream-space.

"At least this place isn't depressing anymore," she said more to herself than anything.

"It is simply a space. There was nothing depressing about the previous one. Only your own simple minded projections of darkness and negativity being one in the same." Sarah closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose, a headache already growing from his matter-of-fact-know-it-all tone.

"There is something we need to discuss, however. And, if it comforts you to have a brightly lit space- as empty and abysmal as it still is - then it will be beneficial in the end," he said garnering her attention. He had stood and began adjusting his gloves before clasping his hands behind his back again. His face serene and self-assured.

"What are you talking about?"

"You're vulnerable, Sarah. You don't have any defenses in here," he said simply and tapped a finger against his temple, "I may not be real to you, but I have something to offer you that you cannot simply ignore."

"Oh, yeah? What's that?" she crossed her arms petulantly. She didn't want to admit it, but he was right. Again. Damn it all.

"Protection."

They stared at each other for a long moment before Sarah cursed under her breath and sighed dramatically. She stared at the endless white sky of her dream-space. Unhappy with the turn of events, but completely understanding that she was in no position to refuse his help. Real Goblin King or not, this part of her subconscious was powerful. A force to be reckoned with.

"You hold more power than you realize, little one," he said just behind her.

She started and spun around to keep him in her line of sight, "I'm not little anymore, Goblin King."

"Of this fact, I am aware," He pouted like a child, "Though, I wish you wouldn't call me that, my dear. It bothers me a little. But, if you did feel the particular need to stroke my ego, Master might suit my tastes more." He smiled salaciously, glancing down her body as he did.

Sarah felt her face flush. Her ears felt hot and she scowled at him, "I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that." He laughed, his smile stopping her heart for a split second. He stepped a lazy circle around her once more. She watched him move easily about the space, his face lit up like an angel in this light. She felt her heart beat quicken and chastised herself for having human feelings. It's not like she had any experience with the male species, what with being locked in a ward and all.

"Are you listening, Sarah?"

She cursed under her breath and he smirked knowingly at her, his eyes as dangerous and smolder-y as ever. She hated it.

"...And, had granted her_ certain powers_," he muttered aloud, "Weren't those your words? Wasn't that the power I supposedly granted you? The power of words. Your right words."

Sarah stared blankly at him, "I'm sorry that was a real thing?"

"You can be awfully daft for someone who bested your share of Goblin Kings, little one."

"I swear to God if you keep this up I'll figure out how to banish you for good," she snarled.

"I don't think that would be in your best interest."

"I hate that you're right!" she screamed, turning away from him. She ran a frustrated hand through her hair and looked back at him. In that moment she decided not to tell her subconscious version of Jareth that he was missing from the Labyrinth. He most likely already knew and was either playing Devil's advocate - and Devil himself - or she was better at compartmentalizing information she was given than she thought.

He watched her carefully, a smile playing at the edges of his mouth, before he spoke, "What will you do, Sarah Williams? Will you run from your destiny or will you rise to the challenge?"

Sarah chewed the inside of her lip as she weighed her options, her eyes locked onto his as she internalized everything. She could just agree. If anything it would be a good way to kill two birds with one stone: take care of her frightening nightmares and her creepy subconscious that keeps trying to make passes at her. Establish boundaries. Both internally and externally. Learn from her own mind how to build her mental walls. Harness her "powers". She could figure out what was going on in her head and control the situation so that her life would fall back into a semblance of normal. She could tell Smith that she was addressing her problems head on and getting to the bottom of all her issues. Tell him she was having a breakthrough. And, then she'd be out. No matter how she looked at it, it worked in her favor.

While she was thinking Jareth closed the distance between them, and, by the time she noticed his proximity, he was staring Sarah directly in the face, "Have you made your decision?"

She resisted the urge to shudder under his tempting gaze. This was exactly the problem that needed to be addressed and she would squash it until not even the tiniest ember had a chance of reigniting the flame of her imagination.

"Teach me," she said, her eyes filled with determination.

"That's my girl."

* * *

><p>Not even you could raise me higher,<p>

Keep me away from all desire.

No one can save me tonight.

If I could only make you feel, the way I do

So you could heal me…

No one can save me tonight.

No One Can Save Me Tonight; Negative

A/N: This chapter was a little longer than the others, but this is about the standard for my writing usually. I hope you guys enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! I have the skeleton of the story about half finished, so now I'll work on fleshing it out. Like I said, one chapter a week is about as much as I'll be able to manage. I'll work really hard on writing at least a page or two every day so that it'll go by quickly. Like I said, I'm very determined to finish this story and I'm actually really, really excited to get this one out. It's one of the most powerful ones I've had smack me square in the face in a while. And, my amazing boyfriend is so supportive of my creativity. That or he wants me to harness it so I can pay the bills with book deals and make him a kept man. Either way, I wouldn't be too put out (lulz).

Anyway, please please please leave me a comment or a review! It motivates me to continue and let's me know I'm doing a good job. PLUS I enjoy critiques. If you don't understand something or I've been vague or inconsistent I'd like to know so I can fix it.

As always, thank you!

Ciao loves,

~ Kryhs


	4. Pretty Girl

Pretty Girl

* * *

><p>"So, tell me again what you think of this person you dream of. What was his name?" Smith's pen was poised on the notepad in his lap as they sat on the lawn outside. Sarah was laying down a few feet away from him, her arms splayed at her sides as she smelled the tang of the earth underneath her and the crisp bite of fall on the wind tickling over her cheeks and nose.<p>

"He's… annoying," she'd almost forgotten that she glossed over Jareth's true nature when she'd mention him a few days ago. Smith had seemed more curious in him than the others, maybe it was because he was a subconscious representation of everything Sarah hated about herself.

"He's a goblin. I don't really know his name. I just know I've seen him before," she said vaguely.

"Underground?"

"Mhmm, in the Goblin City," she kept her eyes closed when she spoke so that Smith couldn't discern the lie from the panic that would most likely flood her eyes. She'd always felt her expression gave away more than her own words did. It explained how Jareth was able to anticipate her actions before she took them. But, he was always creepily perceptive as it was. Maybe he was just a freak.

Or, maybe he's just that powerful.

Sarah shuddered at the thought.

"Are you cold?" Smith asked gently.

She cracked an eye open, he was leaning towards her. His eyes lined with worry. It was touching. "No," she smiled at him, "I'm fine. Just remembering what I saw in the counseling room the other day." Another lie.

"You're safe here, Sarah," he said as he looked at her seriously, "I won't let anything happen to you."

She gave him a soft half-smile. Guilt stung her heart. She appreciated his kindness, but she didn't expect anything more than what he was offering her now: someone to talk to when the nightmares came. Especially when she was avoiding his questions and offering half-truths rather than honesty.

"I love that I can actually smell things now," she said changing the subject. She stretched her arms up above her head and collapsed back into the soft grass, "I never realized how dull my senses were until they were back."

"That tends to happen," he said stretching his legs out in front of him, "Especially in patients who've been medicated for as long as you have. I'm glad to see you're adjusting well. It just goes to show that sometimes antipsychotics can do more harm than good."

"Are you against prescription medication for mental illnesses?" she asked looking up at him, his golden hair framed by the deep blue sky behind him. He looked angelic and she felt the tips of her ears blush when remembering his confession.

"No, not necessarily," he leaned back on his palms and looked to the sky, his defined jaw casting a shadow down his porcelain throat. His adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed and continued, "I just think that, as doctors, we rely on medication to fix problems more than procedure and actual practice. Mental health is a very delicate thing. Not all problems can be fixed with a pill. It's not that simple."

Sarah scoffed, "You're telling me."

A comfortable silence settled over them as they enjoyed the cool fall day. It was nice to actually be out of the ward and be able to really appreciate it. Rather than just experience it from a far. Even when she was forced to come out here by the nurses and her therapists it always felt like she was watching herself through a pane of glass. Always watching but never feeling what was happening around it. Now, she felt free and happy.

Sarah wiggled against the grass at her back and rolled over a few times, giggling to herself. She bumped into something and turned slightly to see her back pressed up against Smith's thigh. He was looking down at her with a fond smile.

Her green eyes watched him for a moment. Features passive and eyes curious. She had never had a confession before. It was rather nerve wracking. How should she react? Would it be too forward of her to begin entertaining the idea of having a lover? He did say it wasn't a priority at this point, and she was too disconnected from society to really understand what all that meant - having no experience of it herself. She liked to think she'd read enough about the human condition to supply her with knowledge for the rest of her life, but that was like reading about brain surgery and then actually performing it.

"Sarah," he began softly and looked away from her and to the wood surrounding the hospital, "I was wondering if you'd be up for a little trip, of sorts."

Her interest was piqued, "A trip?" Meaning she could leave the hospital for a short while? Experience the world for real?

"Yes," Smith blushed as he spoke, "I wanted to take you to see my collection. Books and artifacts and what not."

"Isn't that… not allowed? Taking a patient to your home? Wouldn't that be considered unprofessional?"

"Only if they actually thought we were going there. My plan is to tell them I'm taking you to the library. We'll make a quick stop there on the way back, of course. To throw them off our scent."

She smiled brightly, "How sneaky of you, Director Smith."

"I wish you'd call me Adam," he said with a disappointed grin.

I wish you wouldn't call me that, my dear. It bothers me a little.

Sarah ran her tongue along the inside of her teeth and looked away before he saw she was thinking of someone else. Someone who didn't exist.

"Anyway," he said, sensing her discomfort, "I'll bring up the idea to the hospital director. I really want to give you a reason to want to get out of here. If that means a bit of a supervised trip off the grounds, then I think it'll be worth the risk… and ramifications."

Sarah giggled softly, happy to have someone who actually had faith in her. But, now that she thought about it she hadn't heard from her father in a while. She really wanted to speak to them now that she wasn't half a step above comatose. She wondered what they were doing. Did they forgive her for her biggest sin yet?

Probably not, she thought sullenly.

"What are you thinking about?" Smith asked nudging her with his thigh. He looked down at her pensively. His mouth held a soft, welcoming curve. He was a handsome man. Fair and angelic with a sweet disposition. He would make a great friend.

She pursed her lips in thought, "I'm thinking about my family and what they'd have to say about me leaving the hospital. I'm technically still unfit to be a part of society. Doesn't that mean I'm still considered a ward?"

"Well," he began with a nod, "Yes and no. Legally you are too old to be under your parents care, therefore when you came of age you were passed over to the state. You're technically not a full-fledged citizen and have limited rights, as such."

"I was afraid of that," Sarah sighed dejectedly. Sarah sat up and ran a hand through her hair, picking bits of grass and leaves from it to distract herself from her depressing options in life. How did things get so crazy? Why was her imagination so vivid? Why couldn't she see the warning signs?

She felt a soft touch on her arm and looked up to see Smith's bright blue eyes filled with promise, "But, appeals can be made. It's not an easy process, but I'm willing to help you if it means you'll be a fully functioning member of society. And, it's not just because I'm attracted to you."

Sarah blushed.

"I really do want to help you just as your doctor. It's my job and my privilege to make sure all my patients are successful, even after their treatment is over."

"You're a very dedicated physician, then," she said with a smile aimed no where in particular. She kept her eyes on her hands in her lap and felt Smith shift beside her. After a moment of fidgeting, he reached over and slipped his pinky around hers and held it loosely. Contact. Real contact.

"I can be much more," he promised, "Let's go back inside so I can try to convince them to let me bust you out for a few hours, yeah?"

Sarah laughed and let him help her to her feet.

That evening when Smith was leaving for the day he stopped by to let Sarah know he submitted the necessary forms to take Sarah off the Hospital grounds for a day. He crossed his middle finger over his index and held it up for her to see.

"We should know in a day or two," he chirped, "Here's hoping."

That night Sarah slept a dreamless sleep. It worked out well for her since she didn't want to face Jareth after spending most of the day comparing him to the Director… and vice-versa. She had been working with him on building up her mental barriers for the past few days. And, it suited her just as well to avoid him for a while seeing as how he didn't know the meaning of personal boundaries.

"What an aggravating man," she muttered.

But, he's not a man. Not really, her ever so obnoxious thoughts pointed out.

He was so… intriguing. That was a safe word. Intriguing. She cleared her throat and glanced furtively to her reflection as she combed through her hair and prepared herself for the day.

It was an odd feeling. Knowing that there was a part of her mind that adapted his personality and pulled him from the depths of her memories to teach her how to defend herself from her own hallucinations. Hallucinations fending off hallucinations. As if the very idea weren't crazy enough already. The only thing Sarah could compare would be trying to wear a raincoat to go swimming. There was no point to it. Just insanity. But, maybe deep down her mind felt this was the best way to keep her partially sane. Give her a clear goal and an adversary and Sarah would rise to the challenge. Surpass the odds. Beat the bad guy.

Fall for the villain.

She shook the thought from her head unhappily. She didn't fall for him. She would never fall for him. Not in a million years. He was the enemy. Temptation and mischief and a glaring reminder of her gravest mistake. Her failure. Her ruination. She set the brush down on her counter and stared into her reflection. It'd been so long since she was allowed to openly look at her own reflection that the visage nearly resembled that of a strangers. Wide eyes set farther apart than she remembered. Heart shaped face trimmed of baby fat. Teeth. Ears. Lips. All of it was set perfectly in her face. Except for her nose.

The end of it still turned upwards and she pushed at it with the tip of her finger. A button nose. Of all her features she remembered when she was younger, her nose was the one she grew into. She quirked her mouth up on one side with and unhappy frown. It would have to do.

She ran her fingers over the milky skin of her cheeks and throat and then examined the soft, barely-there dusting of freckles across her nose and cheeks. You couldn't even see them unless you were up close.

Kissing distance, Sarah thought with another sigh. She was twenty-five and had never been kissed. Not by a boy. Not by a man, or woman for that matter. Not by anyone. How did she make it through her life with so little experience. Didn't things happen all the time in Hospitals? Weren't friendships and relationships and connections made all the time, anywhere? Probably not. Wishful thinking on her part, to be sure.

She stood up and removed her clothing, wanting to see all of her in the mirror for the first time in forever. Her body was even more fair under her clothes. Breasts moderate, the curve of her hip gentle, a muscled line down the center of her back, and soft round buttocks over shapely thighs. She ignored the unkempt body hair. Mental wards didn't exactly make for five-star beauty salons.

Sarah put her clothes back on and went to hide in the recreation room for the day, a book in her lap and a cup of water at her side. It seemed peaceful enough. She should have enjoyed it. She wanted to enjoy it, but she didn't. Everytime she saw a flap of wings out of the window or a crop of wheat-blond hair her eyes automatically followed it. Searching, hoping, yearning… Sarah made a sound of distaste in her throat and snapped her book shut.

He was ruining her life.

She spent the day staring out the window and pretending she wasn't worried about him. Pretending she wasn't thinking about him. Wondering if he would be there when she went to sleep tonight.

By the time she ate dinner and tried to watch a bit of television with the others, a nurse had noticed the constant frown on her features.

"Sarah, could you come here?" she asked politely. A cute little woman who looked to be at least thirty or so. She placed the cool back of her hand on Sarah's cheek and the younger woman closed her eyes in relief, "Just what I thought. You have a fever."

"What? But, I'm not sick."

The woman smiled, brown eyes kind as she touched the dark circles beneath Sarah's eyes and took her by the elbow, "Have you been sleeping?

"Yes…"

The nurse stopped walking and stared Sarah down.

"Sort of…" Sarah admitted.

She nodded and opened the door to Sarah's room, "Get some rest. I'd give you fever reducers but we were told not to give you anything unless you were practically dying. Doctor's orders."

"Wonderful…" Sarah uttered.

"We all knew you really didn't belong here. Not like some of the other patients," The woman gave her a sympathetic smile and patted her on the shoulder, "Get better, Sarah. Get out of here and do something with yourself." She smiled again and then turned around and went back to the nurses' station.

As Sarah watched her go, she couldn't help but feel suddenly desperate to hold on to her current situation and then immediately guilty for not wanting to move on. But, it was scary. The idea of going from a place where she was essentially provided for and looked after to a world where she would have to fend for herself and hoped that it all worked out in the end. What if she broke down again? What if her imagination ended up getting her killed? What it? What if?

What of it?

Sarah… Go back to your room. Play with your toys and your costumes. Forget about the baby.

She was fifteen all over again and running away from her responsibilities. From her life coming together around her.

"No," she said finally turning from the sound of happy, deluded patients content with living their lives underneath the numbing glow of the fluorescent lights in the halls as pale and cold as the moon, "No more."

Sarah turned and went into her room.

She wanted real moonlight. She wanted sunshine and wind and rain. She wanted to live under the stars.

* * *

><p>"You're doing this on purpose," Sarah muttered unhappily as she lay on the ground panting.<p>

"I assure you, you're just a terrible student," Jareth stated simply, examining fingernails obscured by his gloves.

"That's not cute," she snapped, "It's not like you can really see your nails."

"I fail to see how that should bother you."

"Because you're being facetious and it's annoying," She glared up at the white expanse above her and took deep breaths through her nose.

"What a pretty word. Did you learn that in a book?"

"I wish I could make your mouth disappear."

When she looked at Jareth he was grinning like a madman. Obviously pleased with his ability to get under her skin. She scoffed and crossed her arms, making no attempt to get back up and continuing to pout on the floor. He stepped over to her and looked down the bridge of his nose until she rolled her eyes and held up her hand. He took it gently and helped her to her feet before moving behind her once more and holding her shoulders until she spoke again.

Sarah shook her limbs, trying to release her tension and then rolled her shoulders back. The muscles of her neck and back felt stiff and sore. They'd been at this for two nights already and Sarah was getting no better at repelling Jareth from her thoughts. Which, she supposed made sense since he was part of her mind anyway. Sarah couldn't figure out why she had agreed to this stupid plan for the thousandth time. It was a waste, and Sarah just kept becoming aggravated with him. She'd already backhanded his attempts to help her to her feet several times. All he did was laugh which made her even more angry.

"Again," he said stepping away from her.

"Geez, give me a minute," she muttered.

"You're wasting time, Sarah."

He didn't mean it. In fact, whenever he pushed her to try again she had been ready. She just hated letting him have the upper hand; Taking everything at his pace. Leaving her to stumble along after him just to keep up. She huffed at her own inability to gain the upper hand with him. She'd never been able to shock him before, so why was this any different.

"Ugh, it's not like he's real, anyway!" she growled.

"Keep telling yourself that, precious thing. Maybe you'll believe it," he flashed her a smile, "But, I doubt it."

"Just… ugh! Let's get this over with."

"You're the only one holding yourself back."

"Stop talking or I'll find a way to kill you."

Jareth sniggered and she felt the heat of his eyes on the back of her head. A very familiar feeling over the past few nights of working with him. She began thinking of something in her mind, just like he taught her. A tangible object. Something simple for now. Like a cube or a sphere.

Give it color, he had said, Make it spin. Make it move inside your mind's eye. The more familiar you are with the object the better.

"Hurry, we haven't got all day," he drawled. Sarah took a calming breath when a wicked idea sprung to life. Fighting the growing smirk on her lips, she conjured up a crystalline blue orb in her mind, rotating it slowly on it's axis. She fluctuated the color to push towards the edges of the sphere and a dark core grew in the center of the orb. She raised her chin waiting for Jareth's next move.

"I'm ready," she whispered when she had the orb firmly in mind.

"Finally," he uttered in annoyance. Sarah felt her lips pull back from her teeth in a grin and the tendrils of his power crossed the space between them, spreading across her mind like fingers caressing her soul. She shuddered, as she always did when this happened. The connection was rather - for lack of a better term - penetrating. It was personal and private and Sarah rebelled against it every time. Though, she was always unsuccessful and usually ended up on her back in an absolutely horrible mess.

The first time it happened Sarah felt her entire body turn bright red and she immediately shot up in her bed. In her room. Alone. It was such an intimate feeling that it took her hours to fall back asleep and reconnect with her subconscious. When she finally fell asleep, and returned to her dream-space, Jareth was standing with his arms crossed over his chest looking rather proud of himself. Sarah had simply cleared her throat and pretended like it had never happened.

But, then she cried out and toppled over the second time. It was so invasive, so suggestive in nature that it left her breathless and uncomfortable on the floor each and every time. And, he always remained quiet. Watching her silently with a patient darkness in his eyes until she finally spoke to him.

He was doing it on purpose. She knew he was. He didn't have to make the feeling of his power prying into her mind so tempting, and she didn't want to put her suspicions into words lest he increase his taunting.

Words of power, she thought sardonically.

She felt him tickling at the boundary she placed around her thoughts. Probing, testing, reaching into her and looking for the cracks in her resolve. She held her wall firmly. Her own determination fueling the strength she put into the mental block she had against him.

Not yet, she thought excitedly, Make him work for it.

She felt him press harder against her thoughts. Trying to break into her and reveal all the dark secrets she held inside.

"You're doing well, Sarah."

He sighed and she felt it cascade over her skin. Though he was several paces away, she felt the words right in her ear and she was distracted momentarily. He pressed into the softening barrier and she whimpered, the sound more wanton than she realized. She felt a provocative growl of satisfaction ripple over the surface of her mind, but she pushed it aside. Her brow furrowed in concentration as she resisted his invading aura. She would be successful this time. She had to be. Then she could wipe that stupid smug look off his face.

He chuckled, low and pleasing in her ears. While he played the patient predator to her vulnerable prey, she erased her mind of any thought other than the orb she had created. A perfect replica, if she did say so herself. Right down to the striations of color shooting off from the center. She thinned the density of her barrier making it as glassy as a crystal and as fragile as a bubble.

"Oh, Sarah..." he teased, feigning displeasure while his voice illustrated how much he was enjoying himself. She gasped softly as his consciousness pierced the thin layer of her barrier and flooded her thoughts with himself. His hair, his smell, the feel of his hands on her waist and in her hair, the intensity of his gaze-

As soon as the last thought crossed her mind the world froze and he faltered. The orb rotated slowly. A drop of crystal blue-grey suspended in a sea of black. She focused her attention on the orb and pulled the edges of the core open until it left the barest of grey rings around the edge.

An eye for an eye. She smirked at her own cleverness.

And, as Jareth's attention wavered, Sarah focused her concentration and slammed her walls up. Jareth cried out as she forced him violently out of her mind. And, this time she remained standing with only the barest hint of being out of breath. She beamed proudly and rounded on him.

"Ha!" she exclaimed as she turned, "I did it!" As her eyes fell over Jareth she paused in her celebration to take in the site before her with a shiver of anticipation.

The Goblin King stood behind her, the back of his hand pressed tightly against his mouth. He was drawing deep breaths into his lungs, his shoulders lifting and falling with the effort. But, his eyes. His eyes were what tortured her the most. Sarah felt her lips part in wonder at the sight.

The pupil of his right eye had dilated until it was almost as large as it's twin. It only served to make him even more wild and enticing. His focus was unbreakable. His brows swooping upward. He was angry. Scratch that. He was pissed. His arm dropped to his side and Sarah saw his mouth part and his eyes glower with hunger. The Goblin King advanced. Quick determined strides closing the distance between them in the blink of an eye as Sarah backed away as fast as she could. She tripped over herself, but Jareth reached out and took her by the shoulders roughly. His fingers dug into the flesh of her arms and she yelped in surprise. He frightened her.

He began to pull her closer to his body. His face looming dangerously over hers and -

"Sarah!"

She gasped for breath. Drowning in the overwhelming feel of the Goblin King's need until there wasn't anything left. She sucked in a deep breath and felt her pulse racing in her chest.

"I have such good news!" Smith stood at her door, his hand still on the knob and his eyes wide in shock. He blushed furiously and turned away from her.

"I'm sorry. I didn't realize you were… I-" he ran from the room slamming the door behind him. Completely confused by his sudden exit, she turned and looked at herself in the mirror and barely recognized her own face.

Pink bee-stung lips - plump and swollen - pouted against the bright flush of her cheeks. The first few buttons of her shirt were undone and the sleeve fell over her shoulder exposing the fair skin as her hair tumbled around her throat and shoulders. Her green eyes were glassy and dream-like. Her pupils large and bottomless. She gasped at her own ravaged image and quickly put herself back together.

* * *

><p>"I really didn't mean to barge in on you earlier," Smith said again clicking his seat belt into place and turning to look at her with deeply apologetic eyes.<p>

"It's fine. I wasn't actually doing anything," she said, she felt her face burning again, "It was just a dream."

An awkward silence fell as Smith turned the ignition and the engine of his sports car roared to life. A talk show began to pour through the speakers in the car and Sarah took a deep breath and held it. She was worried this was another wicked dream her mind had conjured up. But, as Smith eased the car into reverse and began backing out of his reserved spot in the hospital parking lot, Sarah released the breath she'd been holding and slowly watched the large daunting front of the old mental hospital receded into the distance.

The greenery began to zoom by the windows in a blur as the grey asphalt sped below the wheels of the car. Sarah was beyond thrilled to be off the hospital grounds. She could feel the elation bubbling up in her heart; warmth and hope inundated her from head to toe. This was amazing. Liberating. Relaxing.

She slumped against the seat behind her and smiled as the Autumn sun streamed through the windows and warmed her face and arms.

"Are you excited to be out of the hospital?"

Sarah turned to look at Smith whose eyes were steady on the road. He glanced in her direction for a brief moment and returned his gaze to the street. Sarah hugged her arms around the shaggy knit sweater they had given her before she left the hospital lobby. She didn't own any warmer clothes of her own. Other than what her parents had sent her over the years, she only had the hospital issued clothing she'd been given, but her parents had stopped sending clothing years ago and nothing fit her anymore. The thought brought a frown to her face and she hugged herself tighter and continued to stare through the window to her right.

A warm hand touched her hand. The contact felt awkward, but she was thankful it wasn't on her leg or her shoulder. She wasn't sure how she would feel if he'd casually touched her in those places.

"Hey," he said softly bringing her attention to his eyes, "I know this is all new and weird, but you don't have to worry about anything, okay? Just enjoy yourself and take everything one day at a time."

"Okay," Sarah sighed. She let her head fall back against the seat and watched Smith as he drove. He looked so familiar and yet so strange in the sunlight. Something about him tugged at her memories, but she wasn't quite sure what it was yet.

About an hour after they left the hospital, Smith pulled the car into the lengthy, curved driveway of a large colonial house on the north side of the city. The house was not huge, per se. But, it was quite spacious. The front steps of the home met the apex of the driveway and led up to a modest brick porch dotted with potted plants and shrubs hiding tufted patio furniture. A high polished, gorgeous oak door set in the center of a ornate alabaster arch shined in the mid-morning sun. Four large pillars stretched up to the roof, holding the colonial style awning over the veranda on the second floor.

Smith put the car in park and smiled at her happily before getting out and sprinting to the other side to open Sarah's door.

"What a gorgeous home," Sarah said breathily as he opened her door for her and led her up the steps to the front porch.

"My sanctuary," he smiled, "But, not what I came to show you."

She followed him through the foyer draped in earth tones and wooden furniture, past the large marble staircase with polished oak banisters that bisected the large modestly decorated receiving room and over into a parlor. She saw two other sitting rooms off to the side of the foyer as she passed, and the hallway to a sunny kitchen behind the staircase. She desperately wanted to see the rest of his beautiful, beautiful house, but, as soon as Smith parted the doors to the study and Sarah could see the glittering trinkets and worn leather tomes resting within, she stepped inside and held her breath.

Sarah felt her eyes as wide as moons gaze around her at the room filled with amazing, fantastical things. There were baubles and crystals of all shapes and colors that she'd never seen in any of the textbooks laying around the hospital; one crystal the shape of a spire seemed to undulate with some ever swirling mist trapped inside the mineral. The books she saw on the shelves had symbols like the words were dancing across the spine and glittering in tones and textures too advanced for their state of wear. Feathers as black as ink and large as Sarah's arm hung from a slapdash mobile made from golden branches and silver twine as thin as spider silk. Colorful swatches of fur and scales hung in a frame on the wall like a specimen case. So many colors. So many books. So many -

A flash of Gold caught her eyes and Sarah turned - a gasp catching in her throat as she backed into his desk.

"Sarah?" he asked suddenly at her side.

She raise a shaking finger and pointed it at the golden talisman pinned delicately into a shadow case on the bookshelf to her left, "Where did you get that?"

Smith, not noticing her tone and fear, smiled happily and moved towards the familiar necklace. The swooping prongs like the downstroke of an owl's wing. The medallion in the center engraved with knotted swirls. The tapered point at the top of it. It was exactly how she remembered it.

But, Smith continued, taking the box off the shelf and never taking his eyes from it. "It was a gift given to me by a dear friend. It's quite a lovely artifact. Very old; dating back thousands of years. Do you see these markings here?" he pointed at the engraved center of the amulet, "These are celtic knots and what's interesting about them is that it's a variation of a Triskelion symbol. Usually, there are three spirals; however, here we see that only two are connected and between them there is a divarication in the center leading up and - "

When Smith finally looked up at Sarah she had been staring at him for a long moment. Her eyebrow raised up as her lips pulled back in a smirk. The good doctor was quite the enthusiast.

"Sooooo, I didn't understand like… half of what you just said."

He laughed sheepishly, "I'll slow down. Sorry. A Triskelion symbol is a three pronged, or three-legged symbol, representing the forward motion of the universe: progress, revolution, completion of a cycle. The second representation is a Holy Trinity, of sorts. Depending on the region where the symbol is, the meaning can vary greatly. But, commonly, it is show to represent the connection of life: Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. Mother, Father, and Child. Mind, Spirity, and body."

He reached over and threw open a thick, green leather book that sat on his desk, flipping through the pages until a large three spiraled symbol loomed up at her from the page in old ink on yellowed parchment pages, "Three is a very powerful number in many cultures, but especially so in Celtic mythology and history; The Otherworld of gods and deities, The Mortalworld of, unfortunately, us humans, and The Celestialworld where the forces of the universe reside. All these together create and sustain life for eternity.

"But, this - " he held the shadowbox with Jareth's necklace out for Sarah who took it gingerly in her pale fingers, "This is a mystery all on it's own. When it was given to me I was told it was believed to be a replica of the Unseelie King's source of power. At least, whenever he was depicted in folk and fairy art he always had this amulet around his neck. The features vary, though. It's as if he never showed his true form to any one person."

"Really?" Sarah asked, suddenly suspicious that Jareth had conjured up a countenance that she would respond to the most. Maybe that's how he did it. In all honesty, the thought never crossed Sarah's mind that she wasn't even seeing his true face. If that was the case, what did he really look like? Was he actually grotesque like a Goblin or was he even more beautiful than he already was? Heaven help her if he was.

"Tricky Goblin King," Sarah muttered under her breath.

"Yes!" Smith said happily then he frowned suddenly, watching her with calculated eyes, "How did you know he was also referred to as the Goblin King?"

Sarah sucked in a sharp breath and continued, "My book. The Goblin King is very faerie-like. I was just speaking without thinking…"

Smith watched her carefully for a while and crossed his arms over his chest. He wore a pressed white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The fabric pressed tightly over his muscles, and Sarah realized he was quite built for a doctor of mental health. She hadn't seen it before because of the doctor's coat he always wore, but Doctor Smith had a very masculine body. Suddenly she felt the implications of her situation. A young female patient alone in the home of her doctor… who had confessed his attraction.

"Um… we should go… to the library now, right?" Sarah clutched the shadow case to her chest tightly and took a step away from Smith. His eyes were still hard, still watching her carefully. She could see the gears in his mind working, working, working. He looked as if he was combing through her words, maybe even all the words she had shared with him. He was looking for something, digging deeper, "Director?"

Her voice seemed to pull him from his thoughts and he smiled quickly, "I'm so sorry, I got distracted by my own obsession with Fae." He looked at her and noticed she had retreated several steps across the room and his face fell.

"Oh, no! Have I made you uncomfortable? I'm sorry!" he stammered, his face full of worry, "I tend to fall into long periods of silence when I think. My old college roommate told me it makes me look like I'm angry. I didn't mean to startle you."

Sarah breathed a little easier and gave him a half smile, still not sure if his words were actually true. She felt the edges of the shadow box bite into her chest and wondered why she was so haunted all of the time and why she couldn't just let her fears go. She felt like she was walking on a rug that was constantly being yanked out from under her feet. There was no way to keep herself from falling face first into the hard floor of reality. No way to keep from hitting bottom. No way to understand why all of this was happening to her. But, that only proved that she needed help. She couldn't even tell what was real from what was fake. How in the hell was she supposed to survive?

With a sigh, she pushed the box away from her and set it back on the shelf where she had first seen it. She wrapped her arms around her shoulders and stared at the necklace. Smith never continued his little anecdote about Jareth's amulet.

"It's a very distracting thing," he said closer than she remembered. Sarah spun around and gasped when Smith was standing right behind her, but he wasn't looking at Sarah. Instead Smith was staring at the necklace sitting innocently… ominously in the case.

"Knowing it was once a source of so much power. A talisman of the creator of time as we know it…"

"But, I thought you said this was a replica?"

He seemed to catch himself before he fell under the spell of his thoughts again, "It's fun to pretend, sometimes." He reached for a soft leather book laying on it's side next to Jareth's necklace and pressed it into Sarah's hands. "I think you'll find this journal very interesting. The English is a little hard to get through since it's so old, but it's still legible," he said with a dazzling smile.

Sarah looked down at the book in her hands and ran her fingers over the cover. It was bare, no discerning marks or titles just a leather flap protecting the unbound pages of one side and a strip wrapped tightly around the book to keep it closed. She folded it to her chest and smiled up at him. Smith kept giving her books, he must really know how to get on her good side.

"What is it?"

He laughed, "It's a journal. I told you that."

"Yes, but, whose?"

"That would be cheating," he said and opened the door of his study, "Now, let's grab some food before we head to the library, shall we?"

* * *

><p>Sarah rested her head against the window as the car drove through the winding forest road and headed back to the hospital. She felt so full: full of pizza and soda, full of words and literature, full of life. He had taken her to quite a few places around the city's public library. A popular mom and pop pizza restaurant, a little second hand bookshop that she decided she loved as soon as she smelled the wonderful, happy scent of well worn pages. And, to a delightful coffee house chain where they served her a cup of coffee in blended ice with whipped cream and cocoa bits on top. She decided in that moment if nothing else would motivate her to get out of the hospital, this frozen coffee smoothie definitely would.<p>

She clutched a canvas tote bag in her lap. A precious treasure. Borrowed words. Director Smith let her use his library card and she quickly rented every popular book she had missed over the last decade. With the help of a very nice librarian woman they filled the bag with the first four Harry Potter novels, a book by an author named Cassandra Clare, the first two books from Anne Rice's Vampire Chronicles, a complete works of William Shakespeare, poems by Robert Frost, and another one set in this fascinating period of time that never actually happened. The librarian had called it "Steampunk" fiction and said that it was very popular. She also showed her some books that were very popular, but also sounded very stupid and Sarah had turned them down… politely.

Sarah was beyond excited.

"Don't stay up too late to read those, okay?" Smith said awkwardly patting her arm like he had that morning, "You still need sleep. Lauren told me you haven't been?"

Sarah pouted, "Tattletale…"

Smith laughed and it lifted Sarah's heart into her throat. She had done that. Her words made him laugh.

Words of power.

"Ugh, shut up!" she growled.

"Who are you talking to, Sarah?" he asked softly.

She froze.

"It's alright. You can tell me. I'm here to help, remember?"

Sarah fought the urge to hide her fears again. To fall into herself and shut everything away and pretend she didn't exist. She succeeded and felt a swirl of confidence dance inside her chest like a leaf caught in a strong wind.

"Myself. I think strange things a lot. About the Labyrinth. About myself… and my friends."

"What did you think this time?"

"That's embarrassing," she said tucking her chin towards her chest.

He laughed again, "You're going to have to share more than vague sentiments at some point, Sarah. I won't push you, but I'd like you to talk to me. Confide in me."

They rode in comfortable silence for a while before Sarah finally answered him, "I will… soon."

The air thickened, Smith's pleasure at her response falling over her like a warm blanket. He reached over and squeezed her leg just above her knee. Intimate, but not invasive. It was nice.

When they reached the hospital he held his hand up before she let herself out of the car. He walked around and opened the door for her. He smiled at her as he opened it, the vibrant reds and oranges of the sunset setting his hair on fire and lighting his eyes like lanterns. As he closed the door she tapped his foot with hers and stared at the ground chewing the inside of her cheek for a short moment.

"What is it, Sarah?" he asked curling his fingers around her arm.

Something small fluttered in her stomach and she glanced up at him briefly before shrugging and turning away, "Thanks… I had a lot of fun."

She felt his smile, even if she didn't see it and he clenched her arm just a little tighter before letting go.

"You're very welcome. Now, let's get you inside before they get angry."

They turned to walk up the long gravel path that led to the hospital lobby and an icy feeling slid over Sarah's spine. She stopped moving feeling her whole body freeze over like a frigid hand had closed around the back of her neck and halted her in time. Something was watching them. Watching her. Stalking her in the shadows of the dying day once again.

"Sarah?" Smith was in front of her again, his hands on her shoulders as he bent his head to look her straight in the eyes, "Do you see something?"

"No… but I feel it," she whispered, "It's watching me."

She turned to look in the shadow of the trees and saw something large detach itself from the shadow of a trunk. In a panic, Sarah reached up and gripped Smith's wrist as she stared at the creature that melted away from the darkness and pooled like a puddle of ink across the floor. She tried to take a step back, but Smith held her steady.

"No," Sarah moaned, "No, let me go."

"Fight it, Sarah. Fight your fear. Don't run."

"Get it away from me!"

"Pretty, pretty, pretty thing. Soon, soon, soon we come for you," it hissed across the ground. It bubbled up like acid again, only it stayed away from her this time. At least a meter between them. It's cracked, smiling face and large blood red eyes peered up at her from the puddled mass of it's body. It just sat there on the ground, but then Sarah realized it wasn't looking at her. It's attention was on Smith.

When she turned she saw his blue eyes focused only on her. He couldn't see the creature, but normally you would look to see what might be triggering the hallucination. He wasn't looking. He wasn't even looking at her. He was focused and determined. He was…

"Pretty words won't save you…" it cackled, "Four… underneath the cellar floor. Underneath, underneath."

Then it melted into the ground and was gone and Sarah was shaking all over, her nerves rattled and her heart pounding.

"I'd like to go to my room now."

"Okay, Sarah," said Smith, tucking her into his side as he steered her towards the doors, "Okay."

Whatever was happening, Sarah wasn't so sure she was crazy anymore. Smith was intentionally avoiding looking in the direction of that shade. And, if what she suspected was true, if those things were real and they were coming for her... that frightened her even more.

* * *

><p>Pretty girl is offering while he confesses everything.<p>

Pretty soon she'll figure out what his intentions were about.

Pretty Girl; Sugarcult

A/N: Sorry that took longer than I wanted it to! Been busy as of late. My insomnia caught up with me this week and I've been resting well. I have to work tomorrow but the next day I have off and will work on the next chapter. This story is developing nicely and I'm so happy to see it coming together, even if slowly. Today was wonderful, had a nice date with my boyfriend and when we got home he immediately asked, "Are you going to write?" AH! Love! Anyway, leave me comments please! They really do help motivate me!

Ciao loves,

~Kryhs


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